I realized at some point yesterday that when I'm faced with 130-foot drops and G forces of 5, my attitude these days is fairly philosophical. Why? I attribute it to life experience. In three years, I commuted by plane 30 times to school on the West Coast without ever once crashing. I stood up in front of my classmates numerous times without bombing, though I used to think public speaking was one of my worst nightmares. I have been through fires and earthquake. I survived a wild ride down an alleged "road" on an Idaho butte in my brother's truck with a storm on the horizon. I've seen a grizzly bear. I've worked with lawyers for 12 years. I have driven the L.A. freeways. I've chased the Minotaur.
Things like that harden you up a bit, though I have to admit I balked at the sight of the Diamondback, Kings Island's newest and tallest roller coaster. It was just a little too vertical for someone who hadn't ridden in a while, and if you've studied Greek mythology at all, its sky-climbing aggressiveness summons up instant thoughts of the hubris that brought people like Phaeton and Icarus to such a spectacular end. So I sat out the Diamondback and let someone else tell me about it, though I felt a little sorry afterwards that I had missed it.
Later on, we found ourselves at the Vortex just as it reopened after being shut down for maintenance. Although its having "had a problem" of an unspecified nature raised a sense of mild alarm, I was determined to ride it since I had done so in the past. So we all jumped on, and two loops, one corkscrew, a boomerang, a helix, and much head-banging later, we arrived back at the station in one piece. You feel proud of yourself after something like that; it's sort of like threading a labyrinth that has fallen apart in the air. One friend told me that if I could handle that, I could handle the Diamondback, which, aside from the first drop, she said, was less intense in some ways than the Vortex. OK, maybe next time?
After that, it was thrill rides all the way, though the Racer and Adventure Express involved perhaps more bumping and bruising than fear. We got on something called Delirium that even at this moment I have trouble believing I did. It looks like a giant potato masher with a disk that spins at the end of the handle, and it swings 12 stories up in the air while you rotate on the disk, your feet dangling. If you don't believe me, here's a visual:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aLh-j_FCy2c
I wouldn't have thought anything could top that, but we went on to ride a couple more coasters that were so extreme as to be almost violent: those taught me my limits. I came off Invertigo with a headache, and I must say even my die-hard friends were a bit shaken. I may cross that one off my bucket list. As for Flight Deck, it caught me off guard since its rating was only a 4, but it was so much like Invertigo that it brought back the headache that had just started to wane. After that, I think everyone had had enough. I had one more wish, since I thought it best to end things on a gentle note. So our very last ride of the day was on a beautiful old carousel with rearing horses and calliope music and the world spinning at a demure, ground-level pace. And perhaps you only fully appreciate the charms of a carousel after spending an afternoon defying the laws of gravity and common sense.
Today, I was a little stiff but otherwise unscathed. I took some Tylenol and enjoyed my proximity to Mother Earth. Here are my conclusions about yesterday's adventures:
1. People may not be meant to fly, but you'll never get them to admit it.
2. Soaring 12 stories is actually less painful than getting banged around and bruised at lower altitudes.
3. Getting out of your normal comfort zone is not a bad thing.
4. Roller coasters aren't as scary as some other things you encounter in life.
5. Closing your eyes? Always an option.
