For our younger son, that was Superman, a 208-foot structure
that boasted a speed of up to 76 mph.
Surprisingly to me, no one else wanted to ride it. The line was long and since he was only
11, I volunteered to hang with him while he waited. He said he didn’t care if he went on alone.
After over an hour, it was almost time for him to embark on
his journey. I felt guilty for
letting him ride alone, and before I knew it, I was stepping on with him,
pulling the U-shaped bar over me.
I had no idea how I was going to survive. Bridges make me freeze, I hate heights, and the spinning and
whipping of the ride don’t exactly give me a warm and fuzzy feeling. Seeing his excitement made me keep my
fears to myself, however.
What I did know about the ride was that it initially ascends
a steep incline of 208 feet, and then drops 221 feet with a 70-degree angle of
decent, accelerating to almost 80 mph.
And this is just the beginning.
I quickly and randomly decided I was going to keep my eyes closed the
whole time. Although it was hard
to do, it ended up being my savior.
I jostled in my seat a bit, but had no concept of where I was, how high
I was, or how far I was dropping. When
the train screeched to a halt at the station, I opened my eyes, looked at my
son and said, “That wasn’t so bad.
Do you want to do it again?”
The anticipation of the height, drops, twists, and
inversions are generally what I fear the most on roller coasters; in other
words, all of it. Sightless, there
was no anticipation. It’s like
they say, ‘What you don't know can't hurt
you.’ It worked for me.
When we joined the others, no one believed I went on that
ride, not only once but twice. I
don’t even go on the mild spinning swings because I think they are too high and
fast. I felt empowered that day
and rode more rides. But to put it
in perspective, that was the last day I did. Although I found a strategy to endure, amusement park rides
still aren’t my cup of tea.
 |
| Had my eyes been opened, I could have enjoyed the great view! |
