Some adventures feel like they start the moment you walk through the gate, and our day at Busch Gardens® Williamsburg was exactly that kind of magic. The whole park felt alive, colorful, and ready for discovery. And if there’s one thing Houston does best, it’s finding beauty, joy, and unexpected moments in every corner of a place. Our adventure to Busch Gardens Williamsburg began like all great Downs & Towns outings—Houston leading the way with purpose, joy, and a mental map that somehow instantly located the nearest snacks.
Bumper Cars and Roller Coaster Negotiation
The castle-themed entrance? Nice. The European village vibes? Lovely. But the real magic moment was when Houston spotted the bumper cars. If Busch Gardens gave out awards, Houston would’ve left with: The Most Joyful Collision Trophy. He maneuvered that little electric car like a man who had trained his whole life for this moment. I, on the other hand, drove like an old lady trying to obey all traffic driving rules. Houston was having none of that. He bumped me TWICE. On purpose. Then laughed and headed off to find his next target.
Houston has never liked roller coasters. Historically, they are on his official “No Thank You” list, right between airplane turbulence and anyone waking him up before 10 AM. But Busch Gardens Williamsburg is home to some of the most dramatic, medieval-looking coasters on the planet. In a moment of weakness, he agreed to ride the Darkoaster.
He looked at it. He looked at me. He took a deep breath and said: “ONE time.” And so we did.
Waiting in line was fine. We were in line behind 2 elementary-aged brothers. Seriously, how bad could it be? But when we got in the carts, they had us remove any loose items, including Houston’s glasses. He reluctantly gave his glasses to the ride attendant, and the ride started. The ascent was fine. Everything was dark. And then gravity and speed introduced themselves.
Houston’s vocal expression went through multiple stages: curiosity, confidence, mild confusion, fear, regret, relief. When the ride ended, I asked him if he wanted to go again. He stood up, smoothed his hair, retrieved his glasses, and declared: “I’m good.”
And that was that. Roller coaster career: complete. It was a perfect reminder of why we chase adventures: not to be fearless, but to share those heart-pounding, laugh-until-you-cry (or cry-until-you-laugh) moments together. After surviving his brush with high-speed destiny, Houston was ready to eat. Obviously, big adventures make a man hungry.
Soft pretzels? Yes.
Carmel cheesecake? Of course.
Something deep-fried? Required by law.
Wandering the World Together
We wandered through the different “countries,” soaked up the music and costumes, and took photos as only Houston can—finding beauty in every face, every detail, every moment.
Did we end the day with a peaceful stroll? A quiet moment? A reflective sunset photo? NO. We ended exactly the way Houston wanted: back in the bumper cars, where he once again unleashed chaos upon innocent tourists. If joy had a sound, it would be Houston yelling “GOT YOU!” every time he got a clean hit.
Busch Gardens Williamsburg gave us everything: adventure, laughter, one traumatic-but-successful roller coaster ride to last a lifetime. And enough bumper-car happiness to share.
The Quiet Moments That Matter Most
For all its excitement, my favorite moment of the entire day was the quiet one. Just the two of us, sitting on a bench beneath the shade of a big leafy tree, watching the water ride splash into the water over and over. Houston worked diligently to capture just the right amount of “splash” with his camera.
Busch Gardens reminded us that adventure doesn’t have to be far away or complicated. Sometimes it’s simply being fully present, exploring side by side, and letting the day surprise you. As always, Houston found the magic. And as always, I got to watch him light up the world around him—camera in hand, joy in his step, proving in every moment that adventure belongs to all of us.
The best part wasn’t the thrills or the glitz. It was watching Houston shine—being brave, being silly, being fully and wonderfully himself.