A Sunday Ride

The line seemed endless.  I shivered in terror at the thought of its end, yet continuing in suspense and fear was worse.  I gazed at the people waiting ahead of me, and felt a small comfort at the rows upon rows stretched before me.  Then I immediately felt worse.  The conclusion of this line couldn't be worse than the pain I was in now.  Yes, pain.  I was so afraid that it was hard to breathe.  Well, that wasn't exactly accurate.  The cool air seared my throat as I sucked in long drags, but my lungs seemed to have shrunk.  No matter how I gasped, my lungs felt as if they were getting  no oxygen.  My panting grew louder, and the people around me were beginning to stare.  No wonder they're staring, I mentally screeched at myself, You're crazy!

I was afraid of heights, and I was standing in line for an amusement park ride named, “The Fall to Hell.”  It boasted a direct drop of twenty-three stories.  No hills, no circles, no roller coaster was this.  This was falling, plain and simple.  Falling, my worst nightmare.

But that was why I was here.  I was tired of fear.  I was afraid of so many things.  Brilliantly, or so I thought at the time, I decided that if I conquered the worst of them, the rest would seem easy.

And so here I stood, holding my muscles so rigid that they screamed with pain.  I looked around.  How had we moved up so fast?  There was only one row of people left in front in me!  I clutched the cool metal of the railing for support, jostling the tall man in front of me.  He glanced back, and quickly stepped forward.  I probably looked like I was about to be sick.  Come to think of it, my head was swimming dizzily.  Now I had a new fear to concentrate on:  Please, God, please keep me from passing out or vomiting and I'll start going to church.  I felt the familiar sensation of nausea wash over me, my stomach clenching and a cold sweating breaking forth on my skin.

Suddenly, I realized there was only one person ahead of me, the tall man who was still keeping his distance.  He nervously glanced back at me and inched forward again.  I realized I was beginning to hyperventilate.  I started breathing in measured breaths, trying to remember my meditation breathing.    My scattered wits couldn't recall.  Something was missing....counting!  That's right, breathe slow, in and out, count backwards from ten.  My breathing would get me through this...no, best to pretend there was no “this.”  I'd just breathe, and after a few ten-breath cycles I'd be sitting on a bench, my two feet firmly on the ground.

Ten....nine.... Clunk!  The empty car pulled to a stop in front of us.  At least there was the man in front of me.  I still had until the next car came...no, I wouldn’t think of it.  Eight.  Seven.

It suddenly occurred to me that when people experienced extreme fear they sometimes lost control of their bladders. Grief, what if I.... No!  I was so not going to think about that!

The spiky-haired teenage boy raised the harnesses.  He barely looked sixteen.  They had kids running this thing?  Was that safe?  What if he hit the wrong button and wrecked it?  My breathing sped up.  Six, five, four, three, two, one, start again, ten....

Spike-head nodded to the man ahead, and me.  “You two, you're up.”

What?  Not now!  I was supposed to get the next car!  “We're not...eerk...” my voiced cracked. Ten-nine-eight-seven-six...

The tall man skittishly ran a hand through his dark hair.  “We're not together.  So I'll just ride alone, okay?”

Spike-head shook his head.  “Sorry, sir, the cars are built for two riders.”

Fivefourthreetwo....

The man stared at me.  He sighed and stepped onto the platform, then seated himself on the molded plastic seat.

I stood where I was.  What number was I on?!?  I needed my number!

“Ma'am?  Have a seat, please.”  I willed my foot to step toward the car, but it wouldn't budge. Number, number...

“Ma'am?  Are you okay?”  I silently repeated “number” to myself, but I no longer seemed to understand English.  It was meaningless sound: Um..er...um...er....

“Blarb?  Seema glol albya snorg?”  Or that was what it sounded like.

I looked at the blonde kid in front of me, who was beginning to look anxious. 

I looked at the dark-haired gentleman in the car, who was beginning to look frightened.  Of me.

I looked at the car in front of me, harnesses raised for its next victims.

I shoved down my fear, hard.  I stepped into the car.

And stepped right out the other side.  As I sprinted down the exit ramp, I felt relief mingled with horror.  The fear had won.  I wanted to cry as I slowed down and dejectedly stumbled my way down the ramp.  I slowly meandered to the front of the ride, sighed, and took my place in line again.

Oh well.  That made three times. This time I'd go through with it for sure.