Today, we ask, what happens when your event unsells people on what you do, without you realizing it?

Imagine you’re attending an amusement park expo. But instead of non-stop fun and connection, you’re dropped into a bounce-house-filled corridor, overflowing with attendees just as lost and confused as you. Our interviewee Kaitlin attended an international conference for amusement parks and found it a great example of what not to do when building attractions. The takeaway is pretty obvious, isn’t it? Whatever you sell, design your events to support the message. 

Because otherwise, you have a mediocre experience like Kaitlin, who missed an entire expo hall and feels no particular draw to return again. She’s not upset. Just indifferent. 

Let’s hear her story.

The people who buy roller coasters

Kaitlin: This is a conference for amusement parks and attractions, so you would think the organizers would be great at this. It’s all about experience and entertaining people while they wait. But in the end, it’s just another corporation that’s been around for over 100 years and isn’t very self-aware. 

I love this event because of the attendees. Last year, I went to the one in Orlando, Florida. This year, I attended in Europe for the first time. You meet the most unusual people.

But this year, things went wrong immediately. 

There were 17,000 attendees, which was a lot. I thought I’d get there early to beat the crowds, especially since my friend texted that it’d be a 45-minute wait. When I arrived, I wanted coffee but there was only one little trailer, and that line looked to be 30-minutes long. So I decided to wait. And I waited and waited. 

The badge queue took two hours. It got super hot and rained on and off. After a while, I was starving, but couldn’t leave.

Luckily I made some good friends in line—a father and daughter from Eastern Europe who had a website for selling tickets to local experiences, like a date night on a Ferris wheel. They also had an ownership stake in the Ferris wheel, so they were building experiences and selling tickets to them. It was fascinating. The dad gave me advice and almost convinced me to buy a Ferris wheel—that building attractions is easier than it seems. You just have to do it. Two hours later, we finally got our badges, and my friends left—they weren’t even going in that day. 

There’s a big trade show floor with exhibitors for everything from friendship bracelets to cups that look like corn cobs and even entire roller coasters. If you’re like, ‘I will buy a roller coaster today,’ you do. This actually happens. There are people taking meetings that weekend, it’s a lot different than the software world. This sort of thing really requires a handshake. 

The energy also shifts day to day. The first day everyone brings their A-game and they’re in suits squeezing in as many meetings as they can. By the third day, they’re more relaxed. 

The confusion set in again when the expo began. 

This convention center was split into several different expo halls. I didn’t know about an entire expo hall until the second day because the wayfinding wasn’t clear. There was no brochure map and I didn’t find it in the app. But I was talking to a coworker and she showed me the whole other half. When you really looked, there were little signs with letters but I didn’t know what those meant. I think I’m pretty good with directions, too. But I couldn’t help thinking, this place could have used a giant, seven-foot-tall map.

Kinda like, you know, a theme park. 

Overall I loved this event. It’s great energy and it’s huge. I probably wouldn’t do the European one again—not because I was mad about the check-in or wayfinding. Just because it makes more sense for me to go to the U.S. one, where the connections are more relevant.