Alright, it’s confession time… Now, I know this might not come across in my writing, but I’m a huge whimp. Yep, there are three year olds who are better at suppressing their fear than I am. It’s not so much bugs or mice or creepy little animals that scare me, but rather, I have a huge fear of death. Or more specifically, I have a huge fear of death by roller coaster. I am just now revealing this little fact to you, in order to create a sympathetic audience, prior to my telling you about my weekend. You see, I have just returned from four luxurious days and three nights at Walt Disney World; and in the course of those four days, I forced myself to go on nine roller coasters. To give an accurate account of exactly what this entailed, I’m going to take a minute here and describe a typical roller coaster ride fom my point of view (Imagine this happening nine times…)

Now, as you all know, every roller coaster ride typically begins with a forty minute wait. Of course, within the first three minutes, my body suddenly realizes just what it’s getting itself into…

“Ummm… excuse me. Hi up there.”

“Yes?” I reply impatiently.

“Well, umm, I’m not feeling so good about this. Are you sure we want to go on this one?”

“Well, I think we should, I don’t want all the other kids to pick on us. I mean, how bad can it be? That kid in front of us is like 7 years old.”

“Yeah, well, perhaps, that 7 year old didn’t eat two hot dogs, some fried dough, a tub of popcorn, half of his friend’s ice cream…

“Well that might be true” I interrupt. “But c’mon, we’re like 17 years older than him. Surely, in all those years, you’ve learned to hold on to a little junk food.”

“A cookie, a bag of chips, six Jolly Ranchers…”

“Alright. Alright. Point made. Look we’re nearly there now. Let’s just try this one ride. If we vomit, we vomit. So be it.”

So, after much persuasion, I finally get myself into the roller coaster. Now, call me crazy, but I’m generally of the opinion that if I’m going to be in a roller coaster which flips and twists at like warp speed, my “safety restraint system” should not reassemble that of an automobile so much as that of a space shuttle. It should not “click” into place; but rather, it should “fuse” into a harness of unbreakable strength. I also feel better if it has the words “Made in China” imprinted on it. I’m not sure why this is, but it might have something to do with the fact that I believe Chinese people are smarter than we are…

I also tend to get mad if the roller coaster operator is like some gum chewing thirteen year old. Cause yeah, while she’s busy checking out the “hot guy in the fourth car”, she’s failing to check whether my restraint system might result in my plummeting to the ground. Hell, for all she knows, I might have my lap belt around my neck and my head sticking out of one of the shoulder holes. Meanwhile, the “hot guy” has had his harness checked twenty-five times. The whole roller coaster could leap off the tracks, spin head over heels eighteen times, and that guy’s still going to walk away from the whole thing.

I am, though, not quite suicidal enough to remind the operator of her job. Cause it’s definitely not real smart to piss off the one woman who could potentially send you to heaven (or hell) way before your time…

“God, that girl in Car Eight was such a bitch. I’ll just set her car in the ‘detach, burst into flames, and roll off the track’ mode. That’ll teach her.”

Anyway, so after having my fate pre-ordained by some teenage girl, the roller coaster finally begins moving. As the cars crawl up the first hill, it suddenly occurs to me that if we hit the top of the hill, start descending, and then fly off the tracks in a kind of sling shot motion, we’ll probably end up squishing one of the Disney Characters. I just hope it’s not one of the really popular ones like Mickey Mouse, because then there’ll be a bunch of mighty upset children (Well, except for all the kids who like Donald Duck- Mickey’s always been a bit of a bastard to Donald, so I guess those kids will probably be happy he’s dead).

Personally, if I had my choice, I’d go after Tigger. No one’s that happy all the time. He probably goes home, drinks some Southern Comfort, and smacks Piglet upside the head. Hell, if I knocked him off, I bet the owners of Disney World would be pretty happy. I mean, after all, he’s got to be one of the highest paid characters in the park. If Disney didn’t have to keep shelling out his annual salary, they might finally be able to buy Cinderella that gown she’s been wanting…

Of course, by the time, I’m finished reflecting on which Disney Character I want to eliminate, the roller coaster is dangling perilously from the top of the hill. Next thing I know, my eyes are welded shut and all I can hear is this loud, bottomless scream. As the car plummets, twists, and flips, the scream changes in tone and pitch, until finally, the roller coaster comes to a stop.

Can you believe I did this nine times?

My roommate’s still trying to re-gain the hearing in her right ear…