I’m afraid of spiders.
I’m afraid of snakes.
I’m afraid of falling from great heights.
On occasion I feel a need to remind myself of things that make me scream—like this past weekend. Me, my husband and our three adorable children made a quick escape to Pennsylvania and visited Hershey Park and Dutch Wonderland. The trip was sort of our “Last Hoorah” before school started.
Kid #1 is eleven years old; things that excite him are fast, tall and usually make women and men scream like little girls.
Kid #2 is four years old; she screams like a little girl way too often and likes things that are fast and tall, but is only allowed on rides slow and short.
Kid #3 is one; she screams. Period.
To make things fair my husband and I rotated kid pairings. He and Kid #1 took off toward something called the Great Bear and the girls and I found food. Yes. Food. When the boys returned, Kid #2 and I rode a mid-level roller coaster she was tall enough to get on.
But this is all beside the point.
The point is my pairing with Kid #1. We stood in line for ten minutes to ride something called Storm Runner. It’s one of the water pressure coasters that launches riders forward at speeds capable of making your head plaster to the seat.
“Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God,” Kid #1 screamed.
Weeeeeeeee was the only thing coming from my mouth.
“Can we go on that one?” Kid #1 asked, walking down the exit ramp and pointing at a mammoth of a ride.
My fear of heights doesn’t apply to roller coasters. As long as I’m moving forward, I’m not worried about falling—and hey, the ride Kid #1 and I just got off of shot us straight up in the air at fighter jet speeds. I can handle anything. “Sure.”
But my brain wasn’t thinking logically. The other coaster shot us up and over the tall incline really fast; this coaster took a slow approach. The climb was so steep I felt as though I was sliding backwards out of my chair. Blood rushed to my head, making me feel tingly all over. Panic took control—I wanted off. My hands were sweating. I was going to fall. Someone please help me!
But my son was with me, so I had to keep these thoughts inside. We were not going to die; everyone else survived.
We reached the top, creeped over the edge and then shot straight down, up, around, sideways, in circles, upside down, this way, that. I’m blacking out. What the hell? Why am I still screaming? I need to breathe. ACK! Ride over.
I was woozy. Had to walk slow. Couldn’t think. Sweating from head to toe. What’s my name again?
I have a new fear: I’m afraid of Fahrenheit at Hershey Park.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
I’m afraid of spiders.