Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Hi. I'm a Wimp.

Okay fine.

I admit it.

I’m a total wimp when it comes to roller coasters. It’s just, they’re so high! And they look dangerous. It’s a fear of mine that my safety bar will flip up the second the coaster heads for the first loop and I’ll fall to my death. I’ve read about it happening before. I know it’s rare but the bottom line is that IT HAS HAPPENED.

Some coasters look like they’re about to collapse at any second. It’s not normal for them to creak, is it?

I’m also deathly afraid of heights so whenever I go on a high ride I shut my eyes. I’m told that this doesn’t make it as fun but I don’t care. If I look down, I panic.

I practically go into convulsions when I see people flinging their arms in the air while on a high coaster. Do they have that much faith in their safety bars? I could never lift my arms up. Mine are always clenched around me in fear.

I can usually be coerced into going on most rides. I don’t want to be known as the boring friend, after all. Some rides, however, I refuse to budge on. I put my foot down on the Tower of Terror ride at the Disney MGM studios. There was just no way I was going to go on that. I mean, they OPEN the doors so you can look out and see how high you are! If I saw that I’d burst into tears. And the second the ride dropped I would emit a scream so loud that it would render all the other people on the ride deaf for a few hours.

I also curse on the scary rides.

I can’t help it. I sometimes say that I have Scary Ride Tourette Syndrome because the second the coaster goes down the first drop, I shout a string of words that would probably make Andrew Dice Clay blush.

Why am I talking about this?

Because Jennifer and I went on all the rides that the Mall of America had to offer. I was a little petrified over the Spongebob Roller Coaster. I felt foolish being so frightened because small children were clamoring to get on the ride. But me? My knees were starting to shake and I began to feel weak when I saw that the coaster went straight up and then straight down.

“I just....maybe not this one...” I told Jennifer.

Jennifer wasn’t having it.

“We’re going,” she said firmly.

I watched as a little girl rushed past us to get onto the ride. She looked to be around seven.

If a SEVEN-year-old can go on a roller coaster, then I certainly could.

Right?

If I can GIVE BIRTH (twice) then I can certainly go on the ride.

Right?

My heart was starting to thump nervously as we climbed into the roller coaster car. It was designed to look like a Krabby Patty. I quickly pulled the safety harness down on me. It’s also my fear that the ride will suddenly shoot forward the second I sit down. Then I asked the ride operator to make sure that the bar was firmly over me.

“I will. I promise,” she assured me.

I think it amused her that I was so afraid.

I was also worried because TEENAGERS were the ride operators.

Teenagers! You know, the people who text while driving? The people who think that walking around with their boxers showing is COOL?

How was I supposed to entrust them with my life?

After my safety bar was checked the ride operator asked if I was ready.

"I guess," I said uneasily.

And then the ride sprang forward. I immediately squished my eyes shut. The ride climbed up and up and up.

Then it plunged right down.

"HOLY #*(&@$*(& MOTHER OF *#&&@& SONOFA #*#(@*(#(#*!"

The expletives just poured from my mouth.

Thank goodness we had the car to ourselves. Otherwise I surely would have ruined a child's innocence or something. Then they'd have gone home and said something like,

"Hi Mom! F***!"

When the ride was over I was panting in my seat. The teenaged operator smirked and asked me how it was as she helped me up.

"It was fun," I lied.

Okay, so it wasn't a TOTAL lie. It WAS fun.

But it also scared the mess out of me.

This probably makes me a wimp but I don't care.

We went on a bunch of other rides.





I cursed and cursed.

Our final ride was the log ride. We saved that for last because there was a chance that we might get wet when the log dove into the water.

Log rides make me nervous because there are no safety bars.

You're supposed to grip the sides of your log and that just does not seem safe to me.

I always feel like I'm going to fling right out of it.

This ride had two drops. When we went down the first one I shouted words that made me sound totally unladylike.

I assumed that was the only drop.

But no.

The log suddenly started to CLIMB again.

This time higher.

"I thought that drop was it," I told Jennifer, who was sitting in front of me.

"No. We have one more," she explained, her voice laced with excitement.

Drops don't scare Jennifer.

Before I knew it, we were falling at what seemed like to me as an unsafe rate.

I gripped the sides with all my might and prayed that I wasn't about to be ejected from the ride.

Oh, and I cursed and cursed.

When that was over we went to check out the ride pictures just to see if it captured anything thrilling.

It did.

When our photo popped up it showed a delighted Jennifer and...

well...



...a terrified me.

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