The culmination of 20 long years of dread and avoidance

I’m going going continue my account of that fateful visit to an amusement park almost thirty years ago, where I found myself faced with riding a coaster I really did not want to ride…. So we headed down towards the station and got in line behind Kim’s son and friends. I held in my panic stricken mind the very faint hope that this coaster would end up like its neighbor the Python and break down before we had a chance to board. But no, that was not to be. That coaster, which is still operating at the park today, is almost as reliable as fine clockwork. It is almost never down. Finally we made it thru the line, which was maybe about 20 or 25 minutes long, and we were standing at the gates. This was it. The culmination of 20 long years of dread and avoidance. I can well sympathize with other people who suffer from simple phobias, like those who are terrified of bridges. Situations where anticipation goes from a grinding anxiety to pure terror, and the desire to avoid the source of the fear is almost overwhelming.

The minuscule chance of a ride breakdown was gone as the previous riders departed their seats and the gates before us opened. It was at this moment, upon climbing into the seat, that I truly felt like I was going to die very soon. Death from a heart attack, or just fear itself, from which I did not know. The crawl up the lift hill was glacial in speed, and it was at this point that the only thing I could do was to close my eyes and hold on for dear life. The dreaded loops and inversions played out before me, and I did not want to see them. There was only one other thing I could do, and that was to scream my head off. These days I am normally a silent rider, but not that time. The fear was suffocating, and there was no way out of of it now. What I had experienced on Space Mountain 20 years ago was magnified by a major factor, and I felt again like I was going to be flung off into oblivion, or at least into the wooded area adjacent to the coaster. Or perhaps I’d go splat on the ground below… Regardless of the perceived possible outcomes, the ride seemed to go on forever, as did my screams. Until mercifully the end came, where I found myself still sitting there next to Kim, still tightly gripping the hand holds as the train rolled back into the station. My heart was racing like an engine near the red line and my hands were shaking as I got out of the seat. I don’t really recall the reactions of Kim or anyone else as we headed towards the exit. I was still too wrapped up in recovering from a most terrifying experience. That, and I was glad this was behind me and I felt safe in the knowledge that this park harbored no other coasters. The rest of the afternoon progressed uneventfully, and finally it was time to go home. My initial thoughts went something like: “Dammit, Kim, I can’t believe you dragged me onto that horrible ride!” I was mad that I didn’t put up more of a fight and that I ended up putting up with that looping monstrosity just so I would not be branded a chicken.

But then, once I was safely back at home, a funny thing happened. I could not stop thinking about the terrifying experience I had. This went on for days, and I could feel within myself a rather perverse desire to go back to that park and ride those coasters again, especially the one Kim badgered me into riding. I had avoided Space Mountain and its kind for so long, so why on earth would I want to actually seek out something that was far worse? That I couldn’t understand, but I just knew I had to go back there again, and soon. So I called up my friend John, and invited him to go there with me. That summer and into the fall we visited the park at least twice, finishing up the season with a trip close to Halloween. And each time I rode all of the coasters, and I finally got to ride the Python looping coaster, which had been closed when I visited with Kim. That which I had spent the last 20 years of my life scared witless of had now become a thrill I would seek out over and over again.

As the years went by, I began to seek out other parks and coasters I had yet to ride. John and I hit Kings Dominion (and I finally made peace with the Rebel Yell) and Hershey Park the next summer. In the meantime I also spent some time at the local library, looking up anything to do with coasters. It was there that I found the contact information for an actual club dedicated to roller coaster and amusement park fans. I sent off a letter requesting information on how to join this club. And I’ve been a card carrying member ever since.