This is a story about roller coasters…or maybe it’s more a story of love.
I have never enjoyed riding roller coasters. Not even as a child. While some people like the thrill, I was always too caught up in the danger…even it the chances are small. Every now and then, I’d get brave and go – maybe I’d even enjoy it after it was over, but there was always a chance I’d chicken out. For instance, one year I went to Six Flags Over Georgia with the middle school band and rode The Georgia Cyclone. I couldn’t believe it. That very summer, I went and stayed with my sister in Delaware. We went to Six Flags Over Jersey, stood in line for two hours to ride the Great American Scream Machine…and I chickened out at the very top as we were getting on the ride. She was livid. I told her she and my brother-in-law could ride, but they exited, too. She still remembers it. I do, too.
Years later, I would enjoy taking my son to Disney World. We always went and had a great time, but he was more like me in that he doesn’t care to ride big roller coasters. It worked out great. We have two rules on vacation – no cooking and no crying, so that means we do what we want to do, and if we don’t want to ride roller coasters, then we don’t. Want to try to eat something from every country in EPCOT, then we do! Side note. – it can’t be done. Don’t even try it. Even sharing something small, there was no way. ha!
One year we went with my best friend and her family – and in the exact opposite manner, that is their favorite thing to do. We walked around Hollywood Studios for a while, I watched the kids while they rode the bigger rides, and then something in me decided I wanted to ride, too. Her husband agreed to wait with me in line for Rockin’ Rollercoaster. It was great. We had the best time. We stepped off, I looked up and said “Ohhhhhhh…..I can do it! Let’s ride The Tower of Terror! Right now! PLEASE?!” You have to understand, Scott knows me. He knows me well. He knows that I am afraid of heights. He agrees. We get in line. I’m pouring sweat. He’s cracking up. I’m buoyed by the fact that literally there are six year old children getting on this ride. I then realize they aren’t old enough to care. I feet faint. I am pale. Scott is still laughing. In direct contrast to my normal personality, I have NOTHING to say. Now Scott is getting concerned….but still laughing. We load the ride, and they sit us in the front. I ask to hold Scott’s hand. He agrees. After I nearly break all his fingers before we’ve even left, he shows me were to hold on under the seat. He tells me that what gets most people is that they get lost in the story, and forget about the drop. As we get closer to where I know the ride has to drop, I lean over and say: Scott, I haven’t forgotten.
He laughs harder than I’ve ever heard him laugh. I feel the heat of the temperature change from where the door keeps opening to let people look out as they drop, and I know I’m about to die. All I can think is that I don’t want to be the person in the paper who died of a heart attack on a Disney World ride. I begin to practice my Lamaze breathing techniques. I promise almost everything I have to promise that if I can just make it off this ride, I’ll never again ride it again. NEVER. Not EVER. The ride finally comes to an end. I cannot stop shaking. Scott cannot stop laughing. It is one ride picture I wish I had purchased – you can clearly see that I am practicing breathing techniques, and you can clearly see that Scott is about to wet himself with laughter. We walked out of there, I had to sit down a minute, and I looked up knowing I would never again ride that ride.
Fast forward a few years later. Usually I write about my son, but this story is more about my nephew. I love that young man. He and my son are just a few months apart in age, and I love him like he is my own. I once again find myself at Disney World – this time it is the week before Christmas and I’m with two barely teenage boys. JD might not like to ride all the roller coasters, but we can sure enough stay up late and spend a lot of time in the parks. On the other hand, Robbie might like to ride roller coasters, but he needs his sleep. Both of them tried new things this trip.
We were walking around Hollywood Studios, JD wanted to ride Star Wars again, and Robbie wanted to do Tower of Terror and Rockin Rollercoaster. I told JD he could go to Star Wars since he had his cell phone on him, and I’d walk with Robbie and wait while he rode his rides. I see him enter the line for Tower of Terror while I reminisce about how I’ll never ride that again. I hear the screams, and I’m glad we had discussed this in the weeks prior to leaving. Aunt Kim will not ride Tower of Terror. Period. Don’t even ask. A few minutes later, Robbie walks up. I’m confused. He looks at me with those eyes, and says: Aunt Kim, would you please ride with me? I want to ride, but I hate standing in line by myself. I just won’t ride.”
Y’all, these are the two rides he had talked about riding for weeks. The only two he cared about riding. I thought I might puke. I smiled, asked the good Lord to keep His hand on children and fools, and entered the line, shaking. I was sweaty. I was afraid I’d exit at the top. I didn’t care that there were six year old children in line. The big burly man behind us who was clearly in a freak out didn’t help me relax. We got to the front of the line…said big burly man took the walk of shame. I loaded the ride with Robbie, and thought about how much I love that kid.
For some reason, I thought about that tonight. I thought about how we will do things we said we would never do for those we love, and while it might look like a small thing, to this day Robbie remembers the day Aunt Kim put aside her fear of heights, loaded Tower of Terror, and did her best not to have a heart attack in the Happiest Place on Earth.
Love and roller coasters….
This is a beautiful life.
restlesslycontent 