I love amusement parks. Well, I love everything except the lines. And the price. And the stupid people who push scared kids on rides, and then get mad at them when the puke. And terrible food. And not enough bathrooms. Okay, I hate amusement parks. I love scary rides.
I had a conversation yesterday with a friend about their love of a particular southern California amusement park, and why I didn’t like it. I mean, I love the rides, just not everything else. Even the joy that kids feel in that kind of magical place doesn’t outweigh my total dislike for spending that much money to be commercially ignored.
But that is not what I am writing about though. What I have spinning in my head is why I like scary rides, and which amusement things I don’t like at all.
Roller coasters: love. The anticipation on the way up, the initial heart-in-your-throat drop, the coasting through twists and turns, ups and downs, all are perfect in my world. It is like falling in love. And even though you have to get off, maybe head over to the slow moving train, or get sucked into thinking the bumper cars might not be so bad, the smile that I feel after being on the roller coaster sticks with me. It might even blind me to the crap I am about to get into, but the initial ride is always amazing.
High Drop Rides: love. The closed space, the strapped in, the freefall, the speed, the take your breath away moment of total terror, it is heaven. It is a journey into the unknown, the drop off the edge risky part of life. So many people won’t go on these rides because the fall scares the fuck out of them. They have no idea what they are missing, because these rides, even though they are petrifying, are usually the best views, from the highest points, and unless you are there, you never see them. Okay, so even the thought of the fall can be a little overwhelming, but what an experience.
Whirl and hurls: love. These rides start slow, build momentum, and become crazy and fun, and mellow out as you adapt to them. Some even let you control the spin, with ways to tilt and lean, and you get to make the ride totally your own. If you get in a car with someone you like, you can get them to lean with you. Okay, so sometimes they take control and move against you, or complain that the way you are doing it makes them feel sick and would you please stop, or sometimes they vomit on your shoes, but mostly, you get to have a ride that leaves you laughing and a little buzzed, and happy.
Mirror mazes and “fun houses”: fucking hate them. This is the only “scary” amusement I stay the hell away from. Walls in your way, running into cleverly disguised posts that should have been doors, seeing yourself in broken pieces of warped mirrors that have handprints and snot on them, not being able to get the fuck off when you are done, yeah, that sucks ass. I have zero interest in this kind of scary. It is too much like real life, and unlike the other rides I mentioned, there is no fucking time limit on how long the nightmare is going to last. You can wander around fruitlessly for hours, days, weeks. It is terrifying, and there is no way out. Others are getting out, why the hell can’t you? That laughing they are doing just sounds demented, and very very far away. I am sure it is really sadistic clowns just waiting to jump out at me and eat my face. I see only half images, and dark spaces, and wobbly floors, and flickery yellow lights, with no fucking end in sight. It bites.
I guess that makes me sound schizophrenic, but not really. I want all the thrill, and a way to know that the thrill will have a safe conclusion, and not stuck to figure it out alone. After a scary ride that I love, the happy little boat ride sounds fine because it is just a way to reflect on the awesomeness that just happened, and plan the next ride. The fucking maze, if I ever get out of, just makes me tired, and want to sit on the bench and cry. Fuck the exciting rides too, I just wanna go home. So if you are reading this, please help me talk my way out of the maze if you see me in there. Come in and hold my hand, and then come ride the double-out-and-back with me. I promise not to puke on your shoes.
