Do you remember when Red Hot Chili Peppers did a remake of the classic rock song Love Rollercoaster? I love that song. Back in day, every time we were out and that song came on, it was showtime. Which is a little bit ironic because when I think of roller coasters, multiple words come to mind and LOVE does not even make the list.
Oh, I used to like roller coasters. I used to like them a lot. Excitement dipped in trepidation as you went up, up, up and then hands in the air for the rocket ride through one loop after another.
Roller coasters date back to the 16th century in Russia. The first US roller coaster was actually a switchback railway in Pennsylvania. And the first pure entertainment roller coaster was built on Coney Island in 1884. This spot is where The Cyclone on Coney Island still stands. For hundreds of years, people have sought out the danger and euphoria of great heights and fast speeds.
And it all used to be so exhilarating. And one day I crossed an invisible divide. When did this happen? Perhaps it was in Vegas when my thrill seeker friends and I opted to ride the coaster on top of New York, New York. Shall I blame it on the barrel rolls I was not prepared for? Or I could blame it on the hangover, the cocktails, or lack of enough cocktails but I spent that entire ride going 67 miles per hour and screaming.
When the ride finished, my friend JVC laughed at me like I was an 8 year old girl. A father and son exited the car directly in front of us and the young son turned to me and shared, “You said a bad word on the ride!” A bad word? Consider yourself and your ears lucky kid. I thought of 100 bad words and perhaps fear kept them in my mouth.
You know how many roller coasters come equipped with Photo Ops now? So you can see your face, fixed with bravery and washed with thrill? When we saw our photos after the ride, JVC looked like a satiated speed demon. I looked very similar to this: