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Letter From the Great Wolf Lodge

 It's amazing to me how carefully my husband chooses his words. "I can handle the Great Wolf Lodge for 24 hours," he says. "More than that might be difficult."


What he means is that this is hell on Earth. The Lodge is designed to maximize profit (and not to hide the effort); it's heavily over-subscribed; long lines of angry children loop and twist and extend around corners. In a jaunty attempt at "branding," the CEO has decreed that all guests will receive free synthetic "wolf ears" affixed to a headband. This is meant to be playful--but really it means that you just see many, many beleaguered, overweight adults in cheap headbands.


My nadir was a trip to Dunkin Donuts. I wanted coffee, but the payment system involved a "kiosk." You take your plastic "Wolf" bracelet and wave it at a machine--that said, there is a "tipping" option if you're feeling kind. The machine breaks. The vision of a coffee recedes. You begin to imagine yourself sailing off a tall cliff--somewhere in the middle of the Poconos--departing for the Land of Eternal Rest.


"I just think," says my spouse, "that everyone would enjoy a quiet weekend by a lake....perhaps with a campfire." To test his theory, he has us all leave the Lodge for a brief nature walk.


"This is so boring," says my daughter. "My legs hurt!"


Back at the water park, she throws herself in the wave pool. The leg issue is forgotten. My son looks half-curious, half-alarmed.


My daughter shares her verdict--"greatest hotel on Earth"--and she and her Kansas City father seem to be at a crossroads. I'm observing a standoff. Time will tell which side will win.

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