Securely Fascinated

The heavy clunking of an industrial chain working hard to pull a train up the steep incline stops its telltale ticking. Silence reigns for a split second. Interrupted at first by the din of the park below. Everything is in motion but exaggerated and slow, fooling the senses into thinking the train has stopped. Then, the weight of the train tips. The whoosh of the cars racing down the tracks snaps time back into its rightful speed. Whoops and screams from passengers and the roar of the train fill the air as it winds along the track. 

As the ride jolts to a halt just outside the loading platform, the sound of your own heart takes the place of the rushing air in your ears. The pounding is hard and fast. It’s as if the organ had been running behind the train to catch up. The breathless feeling fades during the slow taxi to the platform and solid ground.

I was eight or nine when I finally had the gumption to let my father talk me into feeling that very sensation. It was at King’s Dominion in Virginia. Perhaps a bit on the old side for a first-timer. My Dad was notorious for waiting for the front seat of any coaster he rode on. I think past Nicole was a bit daunted by the idea although she would never have admitted at the time. We stopped in front of the Scooby-Doo coaster, and he convinced me to give it a shot.

My knobby knees were knocking loud enough for people in the next county to hear. My stomach rolled as hard as if I was on one of the metal coasters to the left and right of the smaller wooden coaster. Needless to say, I almost Zoinks-ed my way out of line in search of the safety of a box of Scooby Snacks.  

I didn’t. Instead, I clammed up, doing my best impression of stoic and calm. Soon enough, it was our turn to get on the ride. Dad gave me control of where we sat. In a classic kid move, I selected a row of seats in the middle of the train, and he said not a word of dissent. With the belts fastened and the lap bar secured, Scooby Snacks were now definitely out of the question.

This wasn’t the first kiddo my Dad took on the Scooby-Doo to gauge roller coaster appreciation. He had taken my brother on the same coaster probably ten years earlier. While the place and ride were the same, our reactions were not. My brother didn’t catch the thrill-seeking bug on his day. He was perfectly fine, continuing to not go on roller coasters.

I, on the other hand, stepped off of the wooden coaster feeling as if I had been a part of an extended episode of Scooby-Doo. The ride had exposed coasters for what they really were. Exhilarating fun. The thrill of a thirty-foot drop at thirty-five miles per hour followed by all the hallmarks of a wooden coaster was all it took. I was ready to take on any coaster. I no longer wondered why Dad waited for the front row. I wanted to stand with him. And so a roller coaster enthusiast was born.

To some, the idea of strapping yourself in and being hurdles down hundreds of feet might sound ridiculous, possibly insane. Others might be asking, “Doesn’t it become blasé after a while? Aren’t they all the same?” 

Well, no, I’m not insane. Usually, I’d qualify this statement, but as I write this, I’m sitting next to a book chronicling the long history of the amusement park. If I am insane, I’m not the only one out there. From the thickness of the book, this particular insanity is a well documented and chronic problem for the entire human race.

As for the blasé question, that is also a no. My knees don’t knock together like they did when I was a kid. I don’t want to bolt for the exit like my life depends on it. But, those aren’t the only side effects. The anticipation still sends butterflies and jitters through me. No matter how many times I’ve ridden the coaster. 

That might sound weird. One time around and I should know what’s coming, right? Not knowing what’s coming next heightens and exacerbates the pre-ride experience. Those butterflies I was talking about. While they enhance the effect of the ride, these sensations are far from the main attraction. If they were, it would mean we were all standing in line to, in effect, stand in line.

And, no, I promise that’s not what we’re after no matter what a line ten hours deep might suggest.

Roller coasters are a feast for the Id. Strapping into a ride means signing up for a low altitude flight, a race car experience, and, in some cases, a space simulation. There aren’t many, if any, venues that offer reasonably priced competition to such a concentrated thrill.  All of these experiences happen in concert with one another in the average time of just under two minutes. Knowing what’s coming on these rides is the magnetic force pulling us back and driving us to try similar rides.

Adrenaline usually gets name-dropped about now. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t part of the roller coaster appeal equation. The chemical reaction infuses riders with a chest-pounding reminder we are alive. It jolts our pleasure centers with a cry of “hell, yes.” To say it feels incredible is an understatement. Any of the words like incredible and amazing don’t entirely cover the sensation. The rush is a counterpoint to the routine our lives are draped in.

But if adrenaline were the only piece of the equation, interest in these rides would fade in favor of the next high. Other forces are in play while adrenaline is working its magic. Wonder and Joy. These emotions are not usually bedfellows with the intense chemical reaction. But the combination produces an unrestrained version of both emotions as the adrenaline pushes aside everything else.

I am gobsmacked every single ride. It’s hard not to be after looping around harnessed parallel to the ground simulating flight. Or when the train you’re on is wheeling on tightly banked turns made entirely of wood giving a first-hand experience of what blood feels like when it is being separated. If blood had feelings, that is. Or after feeling weightless at the top of a hill hundreds of feet in the air and then having gravity take the wheel and barrel you back down to earth.

I would have had a much deeper appreciation and understanding of science if roller coasters had been an instruction tool. These goliaths built from wood, steel, and a whole bevy of other materials are the child of unfettered imagination and science. They spring from ideas much like the fantastic doodles we drew on construction paper as kids. Roller coasters are the answer to the childhood pastime of running around with both arms out and towels tied around shoulders. And to accomplish these fantasies, they apply Newton’s laws to become the thrilling and accessible exhibitions of those concepts. 

In short, roller coasters are a damn good time both on an intellectual and emotional level.

Of course, the inspiration for this post comes at the sunset of summer and not at the beginning. Yes, for us New Englanders, amusement park season is drawing to a conclusion. But, there’s still some time left. Especially thanks to the trend in combining two of my favorite things, Halloween and roller coasters.

Keep your seat belts fastened, Nerd Girls!