Land of the Lost

I'm editing this old entry from 2005 for length, and reposting it upon request. I've been watching the old episodes lately, and am surprised at how dark and well written many of them are for a 70's kids show. It's a treat to see them in their entirity, because when I was a kid, I just turned the television off and played outside at the first sign of sleestak.


I was six years old in the summer of 1977. Lying on my stomach in our living room, my eyes drifted back and forth lazily from my Iron Man comic book to the television set where an episode of Land of the Lost was playing. Normally my full attention would have been focused on Land of the Lost, but it was an episode I’d already seen.

Sid and Marty Krofft created my favorite shows, like H.R. Puffnstuff, and Far Out Space Nuts, but Land of the Lost was clearly the best of the lineup. It was a show about a family who took a rafting trip and ended up in a world populated by dinosaurs. The implausibility of the plot never bothered me, because I was too dazzled by the quality of the show’s effects. I remembered thinking how realistic the dinosaurs looked, and that it would be impossible to render more lifelike or believable creatures. The way the clay Tyrannosaurus Rex stomped jerkily through the ferns and grappled with a clay Allosaurus. I thought to myself, "As far as special effects go, this is surely as good as it's going to get".

The only thing that I didn’t like about “Land of the Lost”, were the Sleestak. The Sleestak were a race of creepy lizard men who lived deep in the caves. They lumbered stiffly around in the darkness. The daylight hurt their giant lizard eyes, but if you happened to go too close to their caves they could get you. They could drag you inside and god knows how many Sleestak were in there, and I couldn’t bring myself to think about what they would do to you once they got you in their caves. Instead of speaking, they hissed, and I slept with a large flashlight throughout my youth for fear of them.

Although Sleestak were at the very top of my list, it should be noted that I lived in complete terror of lots of things; giant spiders, grizzly bears, the sawing-a-woman-in-half trick, Yeti, regular-sized spiders, and ”Kiss”, to name a few. I was also terribly afraid of Mummenschanz. All of this was a concern to my mother who was becoming concerned that I may be turning out to be a sissy.

Sometimes, my mother would be watching a movie on T.V. when I walked through the room. I would suspiciously ask her if the program was a scary one, and she would promise up and down that it was not, and ask me to join her on the couch and eat some popcorn. After a few bites, I would be lulled into a false sense of security. I would ignore the creepy music, I would ignore the girl walking into the dark house. Then, when the killer jumped out of the closet and started slashing at her, and blood went flying everywhere, I would suddenly feel my mom’s hands clamp down on my arms like manacles, holding me down. I would squirm and struggle, only to have to experience the dreadful thing through squinted eyes. When it was over, I would jump up and tell my mother how angry I was, and how much I hated her, and how I would never, ever trust her again. To my bitter disappointment, in another week I would fall for exactly the same trick.

Unfortunately, my mother's many attempts at instilling bravery in me were futile. I was a dedicated coward, and it seemed that no matter how many horror movies I was forced to watch, I might always remain a ninny.

Lying there on the floor, I was relieved that there were no Sleestak in the episode that was on, so I could relax. I had thumbed to a large ad at the back of the comic book, and was studying the prizes that could be had for selling seeds when my mom brought up taking a trip to Six Flags. Naturally, I was suspicious.

“Wow. What is it, is it scary?”
“You know what Six Flags is. It’s an amusement park.”
No clue. “Is it scary? What does it have there?”
“Lots of things... They have shows, roller coasters...” She tried to stop herself, but it was too late.
Aha! I thought. “No, I don’t think I want to go to the scary roller coaster park.” I said, going back to my calculations of how many seeds I’d have to sell to get a bicycle siren.
“They have other things besides roller coasters.”
“Do they have roller coasters that don’t go upside down?” I remembered riding one called "The Pantywaist" that didn’t do any loops, and it hadn’t been too scary.
“Yes, don’t worry,” my mother said and let out an exasperated sigh, looking to my father for support. My father shrugged. He never got involved in my mother’s attempts to toughen me up. As far as he was concerned, I would still mow the lawn and move out when I was nineteen, so he didn’t care if I was gay or not.

Six Flags Over Georgia was a complete shock. To compete with the overwhelming popularity of Disneyland, they had decided to employ some famous mascots of their own: the Krofft characters! H.R Puffnstuff and the four “Banana Splits were roaming around the park, goofing around, and there was great Krofft merchandise everywhere! Even though I was a little scared of the three Banana Splits characters who wore sunglasses, I was still in heaven.

I had gotten some cotton candy, watched a puppet show, and after many hours of searching, my parents had found a roller coaster that I was willing to ride on (“The Incredible Milquetoast”). I was having a wonderful time. I was examining my new hat with Puffnstuff right on the front, when I looked up to see we were standing in a line. I became concerned that we were in line for one of the scarier rides. After all, there had been no line for The Milquetoast. I’d ridden twice!

I casually asked if this was the line for one of the coasters that went upside down, and was told “no”. I was relieved to hear it, and went back to fiddling with my new hat. After some experimentation, I realized that there was a floppy pair of green-tinted sunglasses which folded down out of the hat. I put it on and pretended to be underwater. After a while, I started to get suspicious.

“Well, if we aren’t in line for a roller coaster, what are we in line for?” I asked, trying my best not to sound overly troubled.
“It’s a restaurant, son. Please, stop worrying about it.” My mother replied. Dad looked at the ceiling.

I searched the area for clues. Maybe my parents had made a mistake. Maybe they what they thought was the line for a restaurant, was actually to get on a terrifying roller coaster, or infinitely worse, a haunted house. I had been taken to two haunted house attractions in Florida, and sincerely felt it had been the worst thing to happen to me in my entire life. I remembered both of them having a cement “moat” that had been painted red to make the water look like blood. I looked for anything like that, but couldn’t find anything. That area of the park was done in an Aztec theme, and all the buildings were adobe. On the wall hung a dragon’s head, with its tongue curling out of its grinning mouth.

“So,” I asked, trying to make it sound like it just came up in conversation. “Why is there a dragon’s head on the wall, if it’s a restaurant?”
“Calm down,” my mother sighed. Calm? I was perfectly calm. “It’s a Mexican restaurant.”

That made sense. I’d been in a couple of Mexican restaurants, and they always had decorations like that. I was finally ready to relax and have lunch. I always felt silly for spending so much time worrying about something frightening happening to me. My mother held my hand as we went in, because the restaurant was completely dark.

My eyes started to adjust, as we walked down the hallway. It opened into a room which had a deep violet light providing some illumination. The plastic sunglass flaps made things even darker. Everything was lit strangely, and I was looking for a table to sit down at, when, without warning, they came out from hidden places in the walls.

The Sleestaks.

Dozens of them.

I lost my grip on my Mother because I had thrown my hands over my eyes, which posed some immediate problems. For one thing, I’d lost hold of my parents, and was now alone. Another result was that I could no longer see anything. Although that was exactly the effect I wanted at the time, holding my hands over my eyes had left me wandering around blind in a room full of the vile things. Despite the horrors of being helpless in the Sleestak pit, I could not bring myself to take my hands from my face. I just started walking in a straight line until I bumped into a wall. I backed up two steps, turned and tried it again. Eventually I would find my way out, as long as I wasn’t grabbed by a Sleestak and dragged back into the deeper catacombs. With any luck, they would feed on my parents first.

My father was apparently tired of watching this sad spectacle, and I could feel him taking me gently by the arm and leading me out. I was grateful that he wasn’t eaten, and especially grateful to be leaving the awful place. After a few more steps, I peeked to see if we were in the clear yet. Through barely parted fingers I could see a dark tunnel ahead, leading away from the main chamber. I turned to see if Mom was still with us, or if they had taken her as food for their queen. It was then I noticed that it wasn’t my father’s hand on my arm, but a thick, yellow, rubbery talon.

Maybe the Sleestak wanted to lead me to safety. Maybe it wanted to take me to the lower levels where it could lay its eggs in my chest. Either way, I passed right out.

The next thing I remember, my mother were sitting with me outside the attraction. There was a sweaty guy nearby making sure I was all right. I wouldn’t return to Six Flags for many years, when the “Horror Cave” attraction was replaced by a cheerful and animated “Monster Plantation” ride, which I found to be a definite improvement.

Without knowing why, I managed to avoid eating at a Mexican restaurant again until I was in college.