The Tourist Gaze

I’m waiting in line for the Wheel of Fate at Enchanted Kingdom. Looks like one ride just doesn’t cut it for some people. It’s evening, and the park is all lit up with twinkling lights, creating this magical vibe that almost makes you forget how long you’ve been waiting in line. I’m here with some of our teachers chatting animatedly about their favorite rides, a couple of students already reminiscing about the trip, and my sister, who’s co-administering the school with me. We’re both holding onto a thin thread of energy, but one last ride before the fireworks sounds like the right way to wrap up the night.

In the background, you can hear the distant screams of Space Shuttle riders blending with the catchy pop tunes blasting from the park speakers. Students from other schools are lined up around us, looking like they’re part of some coordinated teams in their matching PE uniforms. People are laughing, tossing out some light-hearted grumbles about the wait, and every now and then, you can catch a whiff of fried snacks coming from a nearby stall. The Wheel of Fate hangs over us, its lights twirling in a mesmerizing loop.

I’ve got a ton of thoughts buzzing around as we head out on our first senior high school field trip (our previous stops were the El Deposito and Museo ng Katipunan in San Juan, and Nuvali for lunch), but the loudest one is, I’m playing a different role this time. In my younger, more carefree days, a trip to Enchanted Kingdom was all about sneaking in snacks, hoping the chaperones wouldn’t notice, and taking not-staged photos for, eh, Friendster. I was just another passenger, blissfully unaware of the logistics.

Now, I’m one of the so-called adults, representing our school’s administration. Technically, I’m still playing a passive role since I’m not the one who actually organized this field trip—bless our teachers for that—but now, I have to pretend I know what I’m doing. Spoiler alert: I don’t.

Field trips are not the stress-free joyrides we remember. They’re logistical nightmares disguised as bus rides and itinerary outlines. There’s a lot of administrative work going on behind the scenes, from making sure there are enough seats on the bus (and enough buses!) to making sure everyone’s on board before heading to the next destination. And the stakes are just your peace of mind, your reputation as a semi-responsible adult, and the safety of dozens of students.

But this one unexpectedly takes the cake: someone got detained by park security. For reasons why I won’t go into detail anymore, a student triggered some security alarm, which sent me, my sister, the principal, and the student’s adviser into a low-key panic spiral.

I finally get a firsthand lesson on why teachers and admins on our childhood field trips always looked like they were about to snap. So, to all the teachers, school staff, and parents who’ve dealt with the craziness of a field trip, I just want to apologize for not realizing that you were basically human spreadsheets, just trying to keep us all safe and sound.

But it’s not all bad. Yeah, it can be a bit hectic, but honestly, it has its own kind of fun and satisfaction. Watching students get excited about discovering something new or picking up a fun piece of history at a museum really makes all the craziness worthwhile. Even the spills, delays, and close calls feel like just part of the journey—both in a literal sense and a metaphorical one.

So here I am, an elder millennial just feeling really grateful for this experience. As I’m stepping into a new chapter in my life, I am reminded that field trips are fun! I’m happy to join in, whether I’m a student or an adult, but let’s let the pros handle the planning.