Thursday, May 29

Have you ever been to an amusement park, and been in line for a roller coaster and had this feeling in your gut that it was a bad idea? I get that every single time I'm in line for a roller coaster. It doesn't even have to be a scary roller coaster, either. It's any time I get on a roller coaster, even if I've ridden it a hundred times already. Actually, I think the most times I've ever ridden one roller coaster was seven times, butthat feeling in my stomach never goes away.

It starts before I get in line, even. The sign out in front of the ride always gets me. Then I feel more and more apprehension as I get closer to the actual roller coaster. It's not a time thing, it's a proximity thing. No matter how long I wait to get in the seat, I feel more scared the closet I get. Sometimes I think I might walk out of line just before I have to strap myself in.

And then I get into my seat, and I pull down on the lap bar or my shoulder harness or I buckle my seatbelt, and then I think about how much stuff I've got in my pockets and think about what I would do if anything flew out at any point and I could never find it again. I'd be pretty upset, no joke.

And then the person comes and tries to lift up your lap bar with no more than an eighth of their strength. Like, if a baby can't lift your restraints, then surely the G-force doesn't stand a chance. Then you hear somebody from somewhere say "clear" in what you can't tell is a harsh tone, a bored tone, or a profoundly upset tone (like your dad uses when you get a bad grade on your report card), and you get jostled out of the gate and you feel even more scared than when you were in line.

There's always that really tiny drop out of the gate before you get on the conveyor belt. It tries to trick you into thinking that this is all going to be easy, but then you hear the clanging of the belt that drags you up and you're sure that this is the undocumented sound that everyone hears when they're about to die.

And then, silence as you crest the hill, and nothing. The feeling in your stomach intensifies for a moment as you plummet toward the ground, but once you make your first turn back up into the air, there is no fear. And the sounds all converge into nothing, and all of the colors mix as they brush by you, and all that is left is the feeling. Not the one of fear, but a new one, a sense of awe and wonder and euphoria, and you're convinced that nothing is true outside of that. And you don't have anything to worry about anymore, because you ARE flying. And everything around you is gone from your conscious and everything is beautiful. Beautiful enough to make you cry.

And even if you can't see them all the time, you're on rails. Everything's alright. Yes, everything's alright.