Under the Sea: Culver City's Indoor Playground

A few months ago, I was browsing the numerous e-mails I receive daily from companies like Family Finds, Groupon and Living Social. Generally, I don’t give them more than a glance. But this one caught my eye: Five entries to Under The Sea, the indoor playground on Washington Boulevard. I hadn’t been in years, and yet it’s been one of those places to which I’ve always been meaning to return. So I paid my $20, received a voucher, and proceeded to forget all about it.

Until this week, when it started to rain.

I’m normally not a fan of concentrated gatherings of small children and their families. I try to avoid birthday parties and anything that requires a visit to Chuck E. Cheese. But I have a three-year-old now and there’s no avoiding the fact that my son requires daily doses of running, jumping, pounding and throwing. In short, he requires a playground—even when it rains.

So this week, on the wettest day in months, we made the pilgrimage. After so many years, I suspected my daughter would think she was too old for such an outing. As soon as we got there, she started complaining that she was too old for such things. But then she picked up a rubber basketball…and another…and another. She spent the next hour shooting hoops in the corner basketball court and had me counting shots. When she made 60 in five minutes, I was done and she was proud.

As for my three-year-old. First Ashton terrorized the smaller kids who wanted to touch his brand new jacks. Then he terrorized any kid who dared reach for the bright orange basketball with which he too was shooting baskets. But soon enough, his rainy day insanity wore off. He spent the rest of the time happily pursuing his passions for running, jumping, pounding and throwing.

A word of caution to all visitors: Despite the fact that I’d been caught sockless on my last visit, I still forgot Ashton’s socks. He’d been wearing Crocs and I thought I was being smart by not having to deal with wet socks. It was a mistake I paid for by buying the gray and white Team USA socks they have for sale at the front counter.

All and all, we enjoyed ourselves and I, surprisingly, was not bothered at all by the crowd, the noise, or the hustle and bustle. Instead I was relieved. It was just like the PlayPlace at McDonalds without the Happy Meals, but with an almost identical disco soundtrack and a rigorously enforced sock requirement.