Don't Take Me For a Ride

I don't care much for amusement park rides. I used to, as a very young girl, but they don't agree with my current hag-status.

While attending a great little country fair this weekend, I believe I figured out what the problem is. The adult rides today are clearly created for people who don't mind temporarily losing their minds, possibly their stomach contents, and occasionally - as proven over and over every summer - their very lives. Since I'm not up for any of the above, I bow out gracefully from this mode of entertainment.

Let's go back to my beginnings to put this into the correct perspective.

As mentioned in prior writings, my dad frequently took my three sisters and me to amusements parks on weekends. I remember eagerly anticipating this activity every single time he announced where we were headed. We'd load into the car ... busily arguing over who gets the window seats ... and drive, sometimes for hours in traffic, to our destination.

The parks that most stand out in my mind were places like Uncle Milty's in Bayonne NJ, Palisades Park (also in NJ), Asbury Park (NJ), Coney Island in Brooklyn, Freedomland (which was way ahead of its time) in the Bronx, and Rye Beach, NY.

Rides that I loved most were the standard Ferris wheel, the caterpillar, the flying airplanes, the Dumbo-type elephants, the carousel, the fun house and the bumper cars. Oh and who could live without "the whip." This was a rather slow moving car-on-track system which would whisk you around the ends of the oval quite suddenly and at breakneck speed. I swear, this is how the term "whiplash" came to light. Still, as a kid, this was great fun.

The fair we went to didn't feature any of the mega rides that are all the rage today, after all, they're running on a tight budget. Most of the attractions at a country fair involve animals and foods. However, there were a lot of kiddy rides and a couple of big people* rides.

After we parked the car and walked for what seemed like thirty five miles to the gate, we first spotted a little-kid roller coaster. I couldn't wait to get close enough to see the looks of joy on the children's faces as they cleared the first big hill. Big, of course, is relative. It probably rose a whopping ten to twelve feet, if that. Still those facial expressions were priceless. One brave little guy even threw his arms up in the air as the train of cars descended. Cute stuff.

I told Ed as we were standing there "Now this is my speed." He chuckled and said, "I know dear ... in fact ... you probably like those big painted elephants going up and down over there too!" I turned and my eyes got big and glassy like when you find a twenty dollar bill in the laundry pile. I smiled from ear to ear and yelled "YES... I used to LOVE those," dragging him closer to the ride.

The thing about the kiddy rides that I totally resent is that they don't allow big people on them. Sheesh. Initial embarrassment aside, I would have thoroughly enjoyed going on a couple of those kiddy rides. I'll bet more than a few other adults had similar thoughts; just a hunch.

We moved around the fair and enjoyed all the sight and sounds, eventually arriving to the big people rides. Ugh. Having worked and hung out at the boardwalk in Seaside Heights NJ many years ago, I learned a thing or two about standing near these rides.

Firstly, don't stand too close if the ride is one of those "up in the air, now show me your lunch" rides; I'd rather be shat upon by a buzzard than puked on by a 17 year old boy with nothing between his ears. Secondly, mind the ground for small change. If I still had all the coins I found on the ground around the big people rides, I could probably buy a new car with many cool options. Well maybe not, but I could at least fill one with gas.

I don't want to lose my lunch, my money or my life. I want to ride the kiddy rides, darn it. I want to be able to wave to my beloved from the big elephant and I want to push the buttons on the airplane that make the propeller spin. I want to pick out a cool horse and grab at the brass ring, not giving a darn who sees me fastening the saddle belt so I don't fall off. I would like very much to spin the teacup at my own speed ... or maybe not at all ... insuring that once off the ride, I wouldn’t wobble around in a drunken stupor.

Sometime around my tenth year or so, dad had taken us to an amusement park and we were allowed to go on several rides. I was finally tall enough (yay) to go on one of the big people rides called the round-about. I think there's a totally different version now, but back then, at this particular park, the round-about was a ride with individual cars on an inclining-then-declining track; each car spun independently in circular motion, at the same time heading fast, fast, fast around the length of the track. The ride was indoors and surrounded by flashing lights and loud music. It was a hot day and I would imagine we had been snacking on and off for hours. (keep reading ... I didn't barf)

My two older sisters and I boarded the car and were the only ones on the whole ride at the time. I took the seat at the inside of the track and my sisters both smushed in next to me. A heavy bar was pulled across us and locked into place. Not two minutes into the ride, our car spun wildly, the forcefully pushing my sisters against me and pinning me to the edge of the car. I was pretty much a string bean of a kid back then and I couldn't move a muscle. I felt like I was losing my breath and was horrified. I let out quick little pathetic screams, but not the type that said, "Oh this is great fun!" Not at all.

The lights inside this hot building became a blur of color, and the man running the ride thought we were having such a great time that he sped the thing up even more. I could feel myself trembling and realized I could no longer make out the happy faces of my parents as they stood to the side watching us "have fun." In my kid world, I thought I was simply going to die - die spinning out of control no less. This would never do. Finally, the insanity stopped and my sisters helped me off the ride. It wasn't until they all saw my milk-white face that they realized I hadn't had fun at all.

That incident didn't stop me from enjoying many more kid rides in the future, but it caused me to pause and watch carefully before boarding the bigger, faster rides ... sorting out just how much "fun" I would actually be having.

Eventually, a sister I will not name**, decided it was her job to tell me just what a "goofy chicken shit" I was for not going on the big people rides anymore. Huge surprise - that was around the time when I stopped looking forward to amusement park outings.

The long and short of it is this. If I'm handed a helmet before getting on a ride, I'm going to think long and hard about boarding.

If it takes them 20 minutes to strap me in with a series of bars, latches and foam-padded braces - no thank you.

If they made a point to post a sign warning me that if I have a heart condition, asthma, sprains, strains or hang nails then I shouldn't get on board, I shall run the other way - find me at the Sno-cone stand.

And if you're with me at the park and YOU decide to go on such rides ... don't you dare be sick or die because I swear to god I'll ... I'll point and say "I told you so" in very loud tones.

* big people rides - as a very little girl, my daughter made the distinction between children and adults by referring to those over 15 as "big people." I loved this innocence so much that I often use the phrase today. Even at 19 now, she sometimes makes the same distinction.

** a sister I will not name - this refers to my oh-so-special sister who was hell bent at any point in time to fill me with embarrassment, misery and self-doubt. Thank you, sistah.