The Chicken-out Contest

[Mutley]

I remember my first roller coaster ride like a vivid dream – the sun beating down on me as I waited in line with my sister; the sweat dripping down my temples, and down my back; the bored or anxious chatting of the other riders waiting in line; my heart pounding in my chest as I listened to the cars roaring by overhead and the riders screaming in terrified euphoria.

I was seven, and I was with my family on our annual trip to Busch Gardens in Williamsburg. It was summer, and it was hot; Busch Gardens always meant cooling down on water rides after waiting in long lines, trying to eat a stick of cotton candy before it melted all over my hands, playing endless games of ring toss in hopes of winning a sad little goldfish, and competing with my sister on who would chicken out from going on the scariest rides. I always lost because I was younger and I hadn’t yet learned how to find enjoyment in fear. But I’d vowed not to chicken out this year. My pride wouldn’t allow it. I was tall for my age – I’d grown a lot since the summer before, and I knew I would not be saved by height requirements as I’d been in years past. There would be no excuse not to ride the big rides.

That’s how I ended up in line for the Big Bad Wolf. I’d hoped no one would notice as we approached the entrance – maybe a cute boy, or a souvenir cart with shiny bracelets would distract my sister’s attention, but I knew that would never happen. She stopped in front of the opening and didn’t say a word, but only stood there smirking at me before she ran up the entrance ramp. She didn’t even look back to see if I was following her, but automatically assumed I wouldn’t be there. I narrowed my eyes at her as she disappeared around the corner, and made my decision.

I ran after her, pushing past people in the way, and stopped just behind her. It took her a moment to notice me, but when she did she only raised her left eyebrow before looking back at the tracks. From under the awning we could watch the cars fly by at what seemed like light speed, and the anxiety built in my chest each time they roared through. I could smell the sweat on the man standing behind me, and it made my stomach turn even more. Hours passed, or it felt that way, before it was finally our turn. The urge to turn and run was so strong, and my sister knew it. Her knowing smile was the only thing that kept me from passing out as we climbed into our seats.

The seconds ticked by like hours as I waited for the ride to begin. Our legs swung freely below us; unprotected by anything. I just knew a bird would slam into my feet and break a bone, or a bug would get in my eye. I envisioned the cars coming to a screeching halt as we sat upside-down in our seats, and the blood rushing to my head as I screamed to be let out. Or maybe the cars would fly off the tracks right over the lake and we’d all drown because we were trapped in our seats by the shoulder harnesses.

Panic at these thoughts had me turning to beg the attendant to let me out, but the cars suddenly jerked into motion. This wasn’t one of those coasters that slowly made its way up a hill to build anticipation. Oh no. It immediately curved down and to the left – gaining speed fast. The seats hung on hinges so they swung back and forth as we were swept past buildings and trees. Tinny growling and scary music played from nearby speakers, but all I heard was terrible screaming. I didn’t realize it was coming from me.

Before I could think, we were hovering over the long, steep drop above the lake. My hands gripped the shoulder harness so hard they were going numb. There was a short pause, then down we went into an almost free-fall, the wind sucked the breath from my lungs, the roaring of the cars and the screaming of the riders filled my ears, a hose sprayed us from above to give the sensation of plunging into the water a mere seconds before turning up and away toward the sky. I squinted against the sun and saw a lone hawk circling far above. For a moment I heard nothing at all as I watched the bird soar, then forgot him as we were swept back down into a grove of trees.

The rest of the ride was a blur as the drop at the lake had scrambled my mind. When we reached the end I climbed out of my seat with wobbly legs. My heart was still pounding, and there were spots in the corner of my vision from holding my breath. But I’d done it. I’d finally ridden a roller coaster, and survived. My sister still won the chicken-out match that day as there were other rides I couldn’t bring myself to try, but it didn’t matter because as we walked together down the exit ramp of the Big Bad Wolf she put her arms around my shoulders and said, “You did good, kid. I’m proud of you.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Critiques welcome, and I suck at titles so feel free to suggest something else. :hi:

[Mutley]

1. Revised once.

I remember my first roller coaster ride like a vivid dream – the sun beating down on me as I waited in line with my sister; the sweat dripping down my temples, and down my back; the bored or anxious chatting of the other riders waiting in line; my heart pounding in my chest as I listened to the cars roaring by overhead and the riders screaming in terrified euphoria.

I was seven, and I was with my family on our annual trip to Busch Gardens in Williamsburg. It was summer, and it was hot; Busch Gardens always meant cooling down on water rides after waiting in long lines, trying to eat a stick of cotton candy before it melted into a sticky mess all over my hands, playing endless games of ring toss in hopes of winning a sad little goldfish, and competing with my sister as to who would chicken out when it came to the scariest rides. I always lost because I was younger and I hadn’t yet learned how to find enjoyment in fear. I’d vowed not to chicken out this year. My pride wouldn’t allow it. I’d grown a lot since the summer before, and I knew I would not be saved by height requirements as I’d been in years past. There would be no excuse to avoid the roller coasters.

That’s how I ended up in line for the Big Bad Wolf. I’d hoped no one would notice as we approached the red and black entrance sign with the fierce cartoon wolf carved on the side – maybe a cute boy, or a souvenir cart with shiny bracelets and hip tie-dye tank-tops would distract my sister’s attention, but I knew that would never happen. She stopped in front of the opening and didn’t say a word, but only stood there smirking at me before she ran up the entrance ramp. She didn’t look back to see if I was following, but she automatically assumed I wouldn’t be there. I narrowed my eyes at her as she disappeared around the corner, and I made my decision.

From under the awning, we could watch the cars fly by at what seemed like light speed, and the anxiety built in my chest each time they roared through. The sound was deafening, and the screaming passengers made my stomach turn. I could smell the sweat from the man standing behind me, and it made my stomach turn even more. The line moved agonizingly slow. Hours passed, or it felt that way, before it was finally our turn. My urge to turn and run was so strong, and my sister knew it. Her knowing smile was the only thing that kept me from passing out as we climbed into our seats.

Seconds ticked by as I waited. Our legs swung freely below us; unprotected. I feared a bird would slam into my feet and break a bone, or a wasp would get in my eye. I envisioned cars coming to a screeching halt as we sat upside-down in our seats, the blood rushing to my head as I screamed for freedom. Perhaps the cars would jolt off the tracks plunging into the lake where we’d all drown as we were trapped in our seats by the shoulder harnesses.

Panic had me turning to the attendant to let me out, but the cars suddenly jerked into motion. This wasn’t one of those coasters that slowly made its way up a hill to build anticipation. Oh no. It immediately curved down and to the left – gaining speed quickly. The seats clung to hinges as they swung back and forth and we swept past buildings and trees; each time it looked as though we’d crash into something, then turn away at the last second. Tinny growling and scary music played from nearby speakers, but all I heard was the terrible screaming. At first, I didn’t realize it was coming from me.

Before I could think, we were hovering over the long, steep drop above the lake. My hands gripped the shoulder harness so tightly they were going numb. There was a short pause, then down we went into a free-fall, the wind sucked the breath from my lungs, the roaring of the cars and the screaming of the riders filled my ears, a hose sprayed us from above to give the sensation of plunging into the water a mere seconds before we turned up and away toward the sky. I squinted against the sun and saw a lone hawk circling far above. For a moment, I heard nothing as I watched the bird soar, and then forgot him as we were swept back down into a grove of trees.

The rest was a blur as the drop at the lake scrambled my brain. Reaching the end, I climbed out with wobbly legs. My heart still pounded, spots danced in the corner of my vision from holding my breath. I’d done it. I’d finally ridden a roller coaster, and I’d survived. My sister claimed the trophy that day as there were other rides I couldn’t bring myself to try, but it didn’t matter because, as we walked together down the exit ramp of the Big Bad Wolf, she put her arms around my shoulders and said, “You did good, kid. I’m proud of you.”

[petgoat]

2. I liked your first title better.

:evilgrin:

Thought it was a great title.

Good stuff. Wish I had time to comment. Is your purpose memoir or fiction?

[Mutley]

3. Smartass.

:P

Fiction based on a few snippets of memory, such as the bird.