Phantasialand 2022: Coming Out of the Covid Bubble

Oh, Phantasialand: it was the sort-of decent of times, it was the worst of times.

Before I get into this blog, I would like to preface it with a declaration of love for Phantasialand. Or perhaps more specifically, a declaration of love for Phantasialand’s rides and visual prowess. With its refreshing lack of intellectual properties, combined with meticulously crafted world-building set design, Phantasialand comes close to perfection in my eyes for the environments and ride experiences it offers - at least certainly with its more recent projects. (Do I love 41 year-old Geister Rikscha? Yes. Does it belong in modern Phantasialand? Maybe no.) There is so much to love about Phantasialand despite some frustrating “quirks,” so I’d like to write a blog post about the park down the line to show that I’m not just a massive whinger - watch this space for less misery!

So why did I have such a bad time when I visited this June on a solo trip? The reasons were many: from heightened expectations from a previous almost dream trip to unlucky timing - and even, sadly, simply the fact that I was a solo female traveller.

F.L.Y. testing on a crisp September morning before park open, 2021.

Heightened Expectations

Firstly, let me just say: if you didn’t travel in that blissful lull of covid around September to November 2021 (Delta, who?), you really missed out. I visited Phantasialand for the first time in late September 2021 and it was a delight. Tourist Germany seemed deserted, from public transport to Phantasialand itself, and although I realise that continued low footfall is the death knell for any attraction or transport provider, I would be lying if I didn’t say it’s the only way I want to experience life as a solo traveller. With a group of you, long queues can be whiled away with chat, but on your own, you are absolutely at the mercy of the people next to you in line, who are going to be providing you with the podcast to your life for the next hour. If the queue time is billed as anything over thirty minutes, you can safely bet your neighbours will be the worst humanity has to offer.

Germany’s strict covid regulations also unexpectedly played a part in making that first trip extra enjoyable. For one thing, you can’t smoke when you’re wearing a face mask, so the smoking in queues Phantasialand is known for just didn’t exist in September. To enforce mask compliance, Phantasialand seemed to have strategically deployed extra-burly-looking security who swooped down at the slightest hint of a nostril, and whilst it did seem at times a little draconian (even as a Law-Abiding Citizen I got yelled at once for not wearing my mask when I hadn’t realised I’d technically joined the improvised outdoor queue for Winja’s), it did have the effect of just generally reducing anti-social behaviour from guests. Big Phanta was definitely watching. But viel spaß!

A solitary ride on Chiapas back in September 2021, and a fiver well spent on ride photography.

My first visit in summary was typified by short queues (a highlight was back-to-back walk-on front-row Taron rides), excellent guest behaviour, and friendly ride and hotel staff who seemed just as thrilled as you were that things were getting going again after the pains of covid closures. It was fairly magical. Why else would I have splashed the cash on another visit only nine months later?

Fast forward to June 2022, and almost all covid restrictions had ended and across the tourism industry, it had become clear that the postponed demand for escapism this summer could not be met. Here we come across my second issue with the trip: the “post-covid” crowds.

Rookburgh finally getting dark around 11pm, a few days off of Midsummer, June 2022.

At Capacity Without the Capacity?

I thought I’d timed my trip brilliantly. I’d researched school holidays in Germany and it didn’t appear that any nearby federal states were having a break just yet, and that seemed to be backed up by the fact that the hotel prices shot up for the week after the one I was booking for. I was going on a Monday to Wednesday anyway. How busy could it be?

In hindsight, I’d hit the exact same Russian Roulette of School Trip Season that everyone gripes about in the UK and that seems to have been worsened by delayed demand. (Yes, I am aware that I too was contributing to the crowds, but at least I wasn’t bombarding strangers in the queue with airdrop requests and queue-jumping 30 minutes of Taron’s wait-time.)

Now, I had been told by a Phantasialand aficionado I chatted to in a queue for F.L.Y. that the park could get a lot busier still, but the difference in crowds between my first visit and June’s was stark. Swathes of French teens (as well as local ones) filled the narrow pathways and made each queue an obnoxious challenge. I hadn’t expected to be catcalled by a bunch of teenage boys, or to be punched in the back for attempting to stand up to some queue-jumping, but here we were.

Staff were clearly on maximum efficiency mode much of the time, and a lot of the playfulness and warmth from my previous visit was replaced by exasperation and officiousness. Like my first visit, I stayed at the Charles Lindbergh Hotel onsite. That steampunk, Myst-esque aesthetic is my kryptonite and other than the food leaving a lot to be desired for someone who detests mayonnaise, I had a great first stay, with the Uhrwerk restaurant waiters doing a pretty good job of chatting with the sparse guests and creating that exclusive aeronaut's club vibe that they're going for. This time round, evening service was insanely stretched. On the first night, I was in the restaurant for over two and a half hours and not by choice. Let me tell you, when dining alone, two and a half hours feels like an eternity. Staff were grumbling in earshot. My bill was incorrect. I considered just getting up to leave without paying to see if anyone would notice or care. It was painful to see and painful to experience. Here’s hoping that like everywhere else suffering in the hospitality department right now, Phantasialand can soon hire the staff to cope with the pressures I can only assume they're facing!

Talocan (not pictured: Talocan), June 2022.

The Brillenband Incident

I had a couple of very poor interactions with ride hosts too that I’d like to put down to the pressures of having to deal with an influx of terrible teens.

As an almost-legally blind glasses-wearer, my discovery of glasses straps a few years back was a game-changer. Headchoppers were no longer wasted on me, I could do up my own belt buckle without craning my neck down and squinting like an old tortoise, and I was rid of the fear that during the event of an evacuation I would simply fling myself off of a platform edge to my doom because I hadn’t actually seen it. I’d ridden F.L.Y about eight times over my two visits with the magic phrase “Ich habe ein Brillenband” (translation: I have a glasses strap) until on my final day at the park, having queued up for an hour before ride opening so I could get a front row ride without the long wait, I was stopped in my tracks at the mandatory lockers for loose articles by a lady wagging her finger at me. “That is NOT a glasses strap.” There went my head-start on all the other guests queueing for front-row, who sailed on by, unhindered by their useless eyeballs.

What proceeded was what felt like a tug of war between this woman and my head as she first tried to demonstrate that my glasses would definitely fall off my face by giving them the sort of sharp yank you do not get from any kind of coaster, and then continued to tighten the strap so much that my glasses painfully popped into my eye sockets like swimming goggles. I am as anxious a person as I am conscientious; I am not going to risk losing the only thing saving me from having to crawl around the coal piles of Rookburgh exclaiming “my glasses!” like a Milhouse tribute act, nor am I going to risk the guilt of someone being stabbed in the eyeballs by my falling specs. My glasses were safely secured to my head, but I got the sense that the staff were done dealing with the stupidest of guests by this point, so no chances were going to be taken, my eyelids be damned.

Rookburgh looking beautiful in the grey, September 2021.

The Curse of the Solo Female Enthusiast

Now to the final contributing factor to my less than stellar visit to what should be my favourite park on the planet: my existence as a woman on her own in a theme park.

When you’re walking around a park on your own, people can assume you’re on your way to catch up with your group; when you’re in a queue or at a restaurant, it becomes crystal clear that you’re alone. And a solo woman at a theme park sticks out like a sore thumb. You’ll see the occasional solitary male ‘thoosie’ in a queue with the steely expression of a man on a mission to secure a vital cred, but solo female enthusiasts are an oddity. I thought I saw one at breakfast and got all excited until her partner came back to the table ten minutes later - curse his deceptive long toilet break.

It’s often said about behaviour like cat-calling that it’s not actually about the person targeted. Heck, I’ve been wolf-whistled when I’ve been dressed basically like an oversized toddler, with no-makeup on, at my very grossest. Instead, it’s about singling someone out and attempting to exert power over them. In a static ride queue, you can be infinitely observed with nowhere to go, and you will be noticed as teens are experts in spotting “the other” and making a point of yelling dumb stuff at anyone they deem to be said “other.” I’m sure this is not an experience solely enjoyed by women; anyone with any characteristic that makes them stick out must also have a fun time amongst the worst of teens in the switchbacks, and I empathise.

The staff didn’t help me feel like I’d made the right choice travelling alone either. On my final night, one of my waiters at the hotel restaurant, who I’d only spoken a few transactional words to that evening, decided to ask as I was paying the bill if I was at the park alone, if I had a boyfriend and if I would let him know my Instagram handle. He may have (wrongly) felt there was some kind of a connection forged over me asking for pasta and him bringing it to me, and maybe it’s just me, but I personally feel it’s unprofessional for hotel staff to interact with guests like this; as a solo female traveller you sadly have to be that little bit more alert to potential dangers and one of the hotel staff who could know your room number asking about your relationship status certainly felt like a big ol’ red flag. At the very least, this was a really awkward interaction, and I was glad it was my final night of dining at Uhrwerk.

Obligatory "I coughed up to stay at the hotel and here's the proof" photo.

Not a Complete Failure - Honest!

I’m sure it sounds like I had an unrelentingly awful time at Phantasialand and whilst I’m in no rush to return to the park for a solo visit, there’s no denying that Phantasialand is a world-class theme park and I’d go back with at least one other person in tow in a heartbeat. My current favourite rollercoaster, Taron, is there for starters! I’ve seen on social media other people experiencing far shorter peak ride times just either side of my visit dates, so I think I was just very unlucky to travel when I did to a park that seems to handle crowds poorly in the current “post-covid” world of staffing pressures and lousy guest behaviour. As I said at the beginning, I don't want to be a massive whinger, but I do think it's interesting to see the contrast in my two visits just nine months apart.

With all of this in mind, I’m hoping I’ll have better luck when I travel to Efteling in the Netherlands for the first time in autumn!