"Thrill of the Coaster"
A Personal Narrative

    Addiction. For lack of a better word, that’s what I’ll call it. Every time I see it my heart starts pounding and I’m absolutely bursting with energy. To me, the word means adrenaline, excitement, and the rush of fear and fun at the same time. It is a complete release from reality and a total focus on absolute excitement and mind-clouding fear. Now for those of you with twisted minds, lets get one thing straight, I’m talking about roller coasters not crack. Can’t you read the title? How did I become a coaster “addict” you may ask, well…..
    AHHHHHHH! Whoosh! Rattle, rattle, rumble, AHHHHH! These sounds were not the most encouraging thing to an 8 year old about to be put on a coaster and believing that the last thing he’ll see is a fireball as the coaster crashes. It also doesn’t help that he knows that this coaster is one of the tallest in the country.( For those of you who are confused let me fill you in.)
    My family and I have taken our summer vacation and headed down to Kansas City for the week. After spending time in the city, we traveled to Worlds of Fun. Besides Disney World, this is the first major amusement park that I’ve been to. We arrived at about 9:00 a.m. and spent the morning on rides like, Fury of the Nile, Autobahn, Crazy Karts, and Viking Voyage Log Flume. Now even at age eight I’m already a bit of a thrill seeker and these rides were the kind I liked. But, after a lunch at the “50’s Diner” Mom and Dad decided that it was time for me to ride my first coaster. To me at this point in my life, the word coaster meant a certain, instantaneous, screaming, fiery death. As you can imagine, I was not overly thrilled about the idea of riding a coaster. After a little debating, Mom decided she would take me while Dad stayed with Molly. She doesn’t enjoy thrill rides. (Actually, she doesn’t like any rides.) Mom didn’t want to walk far so we headed to the nearest coaster which happened to be “The Mamba.”
    Let me give you the details on this behemoth. It happens to be the largest and fastest coaster in the park. It boasts a +250 foot drop followed by a 200 or so foot drop and zips around at an AVERAGE of sixty m.p.h. I could hear the screams of its riders all across the park. As we approached I began to make out more details. The train of the coaster was detailed and decorated to look like a large, green, snake with the front car as its head. “The Mamba’s” rails were red like…blood. No, no, don’t think things like that I told myself. Red like…apples. As you can see, I wasn’t in the most positive frame of mind. Holding up the tracks were many massive steel beams and columns. The only positive thought that I drew from this observation was that I would not die due to the track collapsing.
    We waited in line for about twenty minutes when finally (and reluctantly) I shuffled into the nearest car, buckled up the safety harness and began reciting prayers in my head. As the train lurched forward and headed towards the towering drop, my stomach twisted into so many knots that I doubt I could have swallowed a mint. The anxiety of going up that first drop was almost overwhelming. I kept talking about random things to try to get my mind off the looming drop. Then the clanking of the chain stopped and the first cars disappeared from view as they went over the edge. As our car followed suit, I made my peace with God. We flew down that hill so fast that I was literally being dragged out of my safety belt. Mom had to reach over and hold me down. Then we sailed up another incline and back down and then up another. I felt like my guts were doing the cha-cha. The last drop turned as we went down and flattened out into a tornado-like portion of coaster track that was known as a helix turn. After we pulled out of the helix, we went up another incline. A set of brakes slowed us down and then the train surged forward onto a series of short and fast rises and drops. Another set of brakes slowed the train. It traveled up another short incline and around a couple turns and back into the station. I sat in total silence. All the emotions that were coursing through me were so overwhelming that I couldn’t manage speech. (That’s a first for me.) I was pumping with excitement, adrenaline and complete amazement at what I had just experienced. I also felt something in my throat that suspected to be my lunch.
    My mom and I walked down the exit ramp and back onto the main path. I looked up at her and asked, “Can we go again?!”
    She looked at me and replied, “I don’t think so.” Then after a few more feet, her face shifted into a queasy expression and she said, “I need a Diet Coke.” (My Mom loves Diet Coke and anytime she feels slightly queasy or has a headache, Diet Coke is her remedy.)
    I rode on two more coasters that day. Incredible, I thought as we walked out of the park, I went from being scared stiff of coasters to never wanting to leave the mere sight of one. As we pulled away from the park, I developed a hole in my stomach that I knew could only be filled by again feeling the rush that only a coaster could deliver. So began my everlasting “addiction” to the thrill of the coaster.