Scott Eglinski

Hey, how you doing? Having a good time? Real fun here at Knott’s Berry Farm, isn’t it? All the great rides and attractions and everything? When you look around, it’s just like it says on the sign—“California’s Best Theme Park”—right? Well, I’m here to give you the real scoop, pal: The crap they’ve been feeding you in that little pamphlet you got at the ticket kiosk doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface. Not even close. That’s the mass-market version for all the stupid sheep who don’t know any better. If you want to see the real Knott’s Berry Farm—I’m talking about the shit that’s not on any map—just play it cool and follow me.

I’ll show you a side of Knott’s Berry Farm that will make your goddamn head spin.


All this sanitized, sterile Camp Snoopy bullshit? It’s a total fucking façade, man. You need someone like me who can open your eyes to the real down-and-dirty Knott’s Berry that lies beneath the brightly colored, saccharine exterior of the Linus Launcher and Rapid River Run. Oh, there are plenty of thrills to be had, but that sorry excuse for a flume they call the Timber Mountain Log Ride ain’t where you’re gonna find them. No, siree.

Mark my words—I’ll show you things that will make even the Rip Tide and the Xcelerator look like pussy-ass piles of shit.

Fair warning: Where I’m about to take you isn’t for lightweights. You’re going to see parts of Fiesta Village that aren’t for the faint of heart, to say the least. Ever been deep in the barrio of FV? Or down by the docks? ’Course you haven’t; a greenhorn like you would get eaten alive down there! See, that’s not where Charlie Brown, Woodstock, and all those other cute, cuddly characters hang out, buddy. And let me tell you from experience: One wrong look at Twitchy Schroeder or One-Eyed Lucy, and you’re toast, brother.


But with me as your guide, you’re in like Flynn. So whaddaya say? If you got the guts, come along with me, and pretty soon you’ll be eating the most authentic nacho fries you’ve ever tasted in your life.

We’re gonna have to get pretty dirty if you want to see it, though. And we gotta be quick and make our move while that asshole in the Linus costume isn’t looking over here—he’s narced on me before. But once we’re sure he’s distracted, we’ll haul ass through the kitchen of Amber Waves and into the back alley. After that, it’s a quick shimmy up the latticework of the GhostRider, where we’ll drop onto the roof of the California Marketplace. Then, we just gotta make it over to the sewer grate by Indian Trails; that’ll eventually dump us out of a manhole next to the Huff and Puff, and we’re almost there. Almost to where the real shit goes down.

And then I’ll pull your blinders off and show you what Knott’s Berry Farm really has to offer. If you think you can stomach it, that is.


But, hey, maybe I read you all wrong. Maybe you just don’t have the stones for this kind of thing. By all means, if you want to have the same lame-as-hell visit as all these sorry-ass divorced dads with weekend custody, then run along back to Pig Pen’s Mud Buggies. Or maybe take the nice, safe Calico Railroad on down to the Charles M. Schulz Theatre and forever regret that you couldn’t muster up the balls to experience the true essence of this place.

But if you change your mind, just remember that I’m your ticket in. Today, tomorrow—whenever you’re ready to see the real deal, I’ll be right here. Waiting by the Butterfield Stagecoach, ready to blow your mind.