Roller Coaster Fairytale

See, roller coasters have always intrigued me. While generally apprehensive towards them, I thought, based on stories, experiences shared by my peers, things I saw on TV, that beyond enjoying the ride, this could become a staple in my life. Previously, I had been on similar type rides, but really nothing of this magnitude. I think you have to reach a certain point in your life before you’re programmed and prepared for the commitment of a full blown, long, winding, usually breathtaking, but at times, mildly exhausting roller coaster. So I’m all jacked up, packed up, pulling into the parking lot, ready for a journey I’m sure never to forget. Everyone tells me I have to ride Roller Coaster ‘S’ (So hard to remember names). So I stand in agonizing line with my spirit strong and my anticipation astronomical, refusing to be discouraged by the seemingly endless snake of potential suitors that will reach the gate before me. Inch by inch, step by step, my time finally comes, and I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this will be the life-altering experience I had read about in magazines or watched on the big screen. Something so remarkable, I struggle to comprehend how life ever existed without it. I strap in and begin the ascent. It’s everything I thought. My heart is racing. I’m seeing things I’ve never seen before. I’m nervous, but excited. Sweaty with what lies ahead. Afraid that I’m in the wrong position, doomed for disaster by my own doing. But excited none the less. We breech the apex, escape out of the zenith, and all systems are a go, fire the engines, we’re taking off. In moments, my stomach is in my throat. Then, a turn. My head gets jarred so quickly, I swear I'm concussed. During our first inversion, my only hope is that I don’t vomit up and meet it on the way back around. Every turn adds bruises to my petrified body. I can’t wait for it to end. I already know how it will feel to walk away from this. If my expectations weren’t so exponentially higher than any other ride I had ever been on, maybe I could have survived this. But as it is, I’m discouraged, meekly meandering into the rest of the park.

Defeated, with limited hope, I see it, a new one, peaking through the trees, peeking directly at me, piquing my interest immediately. As I approach, I notice that this Roller Coaster ‘N’ is the complete opposite of ‘S.’ The way it’s built, the way it moves, everything about it draws you in. There’s an extensive line, but a bypass lane, allowing me VIP-esk access. Optimism restored, I am confident that this won’t end in disaster. From the moment I sit down, I know I’m safe. The suspended cars, the overhead harnesses, I’m safe, but I’m free. I’m protected, but I’m exposed. The climb is nearly identical, but giving this rebound effect, it feels nicer, smoother, serene. As we begin our descent, the nerves flare up, flashbacks remind me of the ever-so-recent failure, but, as if she could sense it, Roller Coaster ‘N’ eases my woes with turn after turn of immaculate precision, swiftly and unnoticeably transitioning from twist to loop to turn to drop, without once making me feel anything but bliss. I’m sad to walk down the off ramp. Two steps back into the park, I realize there’s no need to try any other ride. This was everything I needed. So I retreat back to the front, bypass to the entrance, only to see a sign: ‘Closed for maintenance. Service suspended indefinitely.’ Heartbroken. ‘Everything was fine a minute ago!’ I yell. How could this happen? Was it something I did? Did I ruin this?

Visually affected, but strangely, brimming with confidence, convinced it was right place, wrong time, and reasonably optimistic that the next one will be the right one for me. So with a slight giddy-up in my step, I walk until I spot it, Roller Coaster ‘Z,’ similar to ‘N,’ but kinda pushed on its side. Same sport, different team, type of thing. I basically jog to the front and hop into my seat, ready to get this damn thing off the ground. The creaking and cranking of the cart during the ascension is music to my ears. I’m prepared, calculated, I know the do’s and don’ts, I know what to expect, and I’m ready to tip this thing south. We reach the top, nowhere else to go but down, and shriek. A painfully abrupt stop, snagged before we can even begin to fall, and forced to trudge down the maintenance stairs you were always curious about but never wanted to be on.

Roller Coaster ‘J’ is a tease. No line, but for a reason. Our climb is half the height, the turns are predictable, the highs and lows are barely distinguishable, and it’s over before it has enough speed to instill even the slightest bit of fear of falling.

Roller Coaster ‘M’ is promising. The hill is impressive, and the ride catches me by surprise. Once. Then it winds and winds, rises and falls, losing and picking up speed, over, and over, and over. I’m never scared, but I don’t hate it. It’s comforting, in a way I wasn’t expecting. I spend the last half of the ride convincing myself that these conditions, this seat, this speed, is exactly what I need. And above all, location, location, location. At one point we were inches from water, feeling the mist tickle my shins. So I finally get to the end, happy to admit that this might be what I was looking for. Get to the exit, and there’s a recording coming out of a stock photo, ‘I had a great time too, but I’m just not sure if we’ll ever be anything but friends.’

I mean, I’m on the verge of just sitting down and letting a roller coaster come find me. Play the prey instead of the hunter. But that won’t work, because roller coasters don’t have any fucking legs. So I continue my pursuit. As hopeless, at times, as it might seem. Because, despite my track record, every time I see the stainless steel, the rivets, the supports, every time I hear the whoosh of the carts, the silky rush, every time I feel the butterflies, it all starts again, and I’m sitting there, patient, weathered, beaten but not broken, inexplicably optimistic, waiting for the fall that changes my life forever.