An Ageless Thrill

I was at a theme park with a couple of old buddies of mine, and they were adamant about riding the biggest coaster there. Like most anxious people, I’m pretty timid when faced with the idea of something so glorified. I get overwhelmed thinking about the exalted thrills a ride like that has the potential to provide. Though, deep down inside of me there was a sliver of confidence that told me I could face these things, even if my outer shell only knew itself to produce doubt.

Half of the group took the fast pass line, leaving myself and one of my buddies subjected to a longer wait. There at the line we stood. It was one of those rides that ended in a different spot than it began. Making the reactions of those we saw off remain a mystery. Time crawled as we waited, just pondering what was in store for us. “I’m getting too old for this shit,” I said to my buddy with a smile. I wasn’t feeling too scared anymore. I was just getting too old for this shit.

I saw a young boy who was full of energy at the line. His parents told him he would have so much fun on the ride. A couple times, though, I’d hear him ask a nervous question or two: “Does it feel like flying? Where are we gonna end up?” You could tell, in the back of his mind he was scared of the discomfort that the ride could easily entail. His parents told him to enjoy himself.

When it was time for his toe to meet the point of the line, I saw his smile fade, and a subtle look of fear flood his face. But he didn’t argue or fight. He simply settled in and held on for the ride.

It was peculiar that there wasn’t a height requirement. For that kid to be in my place, it didn’t feel right. Our movement began to feel a lot faster, the time practically flying now in line. I saw more patrons sliding into their seats. Their exhalations became more frequent and much stronger. They were shaking themselves off, keeping loose. I no longer felt as alone in my former anxieties, for I saw the same look of the boy across the rows of uncomfortable carts.

I stepped into the rays and felt anew on the sunny, hot day. I had caught a couple glimpses of the glare between the slits of the awning that had kept us shaded, but it was only a taste of the divinity I felt in the warmth. This transition marked a point of no return. It was my buddy who marked the cutoff for the ride before my own. So, after all the waiting, I was going to have to take it on alone. At that point, I didn’t mind all that much. I realized I kind of liked standing in the line. There weren’t any workers at this attraction, so I helped my friend get strapped in. I didn’t feel very qualified, but someone had to do it. I saw him off.

I was greeted by the next empty cart as it shuffled on through. The empty seat looked up to me as if it had picked me out in some prophetic way. A young man behind me helped me into my spot on the mystifying ferry. He pushed down the buzz bar, gave me a smile, a thumbs up, and a wave as if he were one of my old friends. The cart began to chug off. All those in line that were watching me in excitement had no idea what was in store for them. Nor did I. And if I’d ever find myself in a line again, I don’t think I would be able to recall either. The inevitable feelings of fear that I had felt in the beginning and witnessed in the others returned. They were stronger than ever, although they did not have long to fester, as my link in the chain was pulled along.

And we blasted off into the heat of the scorching star, which I had only known to watch over me from an incomprehensible distance. Never had I felt so close to it, and so far from my place at the start of the line. If I had a spare second to stop and think, I believe I would’ve felt terrified, excited, dumbfounded, content, anxious, a little upset, and maybe even gracious. Time was simply flying too fast by then for me to find the words to describe it.

This piece was accepted and published in the Spring 2024 edition of the 30 North Literary Magazine.