AK vs. Goliath

A few months ago, the girls decided that Mother’s Day would be celebrated at Six Flags, a theme park just a couple of hours from home. I was excited about the surprise…I have loved roller coasters for a long time and have passed that love on to each of our daughters. Robert’s equilibrium was traumatized on a teacup ride as a youngster so he wasn’t feeling as enthusiastic as the rest of us. Being the supportive person that he is, he went along anyway.

At the age of 8 I had my feelings hurt so one of my brothers decided to cheer me up with my first trip to Six Flags. I had never done anything like that before. He decided that our first ride would be The Great American Scream Machine. He made us wait until we could get in the very front car. The ride lived up to its name and I was hooked. We rode almost everything that day. It is still on my list of best days ever.

That gave me the confidence to force my dad and that same brother to ride Space Mountain at Disney World with me a few months later. I still can’t believe Dad agreed to it. We were in line for days. The closer we got to the front, the more panicked I became. I started coming up with excuses. Bathroom. Cold. Thirsty. Stomach cramps. Hungry. Hot. Tired. Whiny whiny whiny. Dad had enough. He got right in my face and said “We are riding this ride so you can stop all of that…right…now…”. My brother was rolling his eyes and I knew I had to face a monster of my own creation. We rode. Dad and I screamed like Banshees. My brother laughed his butt off. It was GREAT.

Not long after that my other brother took me back to Six Flags and took me on the MindBender…my first foray in the 360 degree loop. Loved. It. We rode rides until we were literally loopy.

I went back to Six Flags with my youth group and groups of friends a multitude of times over the years. Our youth group used to go to Panama City Beach and we would load in the van and head out to Miracle Strip, a little theme park near the beach, and ride rides until the park closed. It was sketchy and awesome and not in existence anymore in this age of personal safety.

As much as I love roller coasters, I am picky about which ones I ride, especially as I get older. I don’t like anything called Pirate Ship or Dutch Boat or anything that rocks you back and forth until you’re almost upside down. Definitely not my thing. I rode the Big Shot on top of the Stratosphere in Las Vegas one time years ago and even though the view is phenomenal and I’m still proud of the accomplishment, I doubt I would agree to that again. Our girls are more adventurous than I am in that respect.

But I digress…

We had ridden a couple of rides that Saturday. Robert tried one on for size and it didn’t fit so he was holding phones, scoping out food and people watching. In the line for our first ride of the day I had been feeling really nervous leading up to takeoff but the girls helped me laugh it off and I was able to shake my nerves. I took them on “that lame old” MindBender ride and they loved it as much as I do.

We got in line for Goliath. A different beast altogether. It’s big and looming. No loops, just straight up and down with the occasional spiral thrown in for good measure. The track hovers just overhead throughout the park and can be seen clearly from the interstate. It’s painted muted shades of blue and orange but don’t let the mild color scheme fool you…it is a true Goliath. The line was blessedly short so I didn’t have time to get too ramped up. I know it’s ridiculous. I love to ride but my stomach is flipping like an Olympic gymnast until we start to go. I have no control over that…I just have to deal with it. It gets less and less intense with each ride. We sped through the line and were able to all get in seats one row. The attendants buckled us in and we started moving. We headed around the curve to face the first climb. It’s a big one. We were about halfway back in the group of cars. The first two cars had started up the ascent and the whole thing stopped dead. We sat. My stomach flipped. We sat. I flipped. Sit. Flip. Sit. Flip. It was a beautiful sunny day in May. Not a cloud in the sky. If you’re not from the South that means it was hot. Steamy, humid, unrelenting, sweaty hot. We were sitting out there on the tracks like a flock of rotisserie chickens. I asked one of the workers who walked by what the situation was and he said…my bad, I accidentally hit the wrong button…sorry. He didn’t seem sorry and I wasn’t convinced. We had been stuck there for what felt like an eternity. My stomach was competing in its fourth event of the day. Our oldest texted her Dad…Mom’s losing it. She wasn’t wrong. I was starting to panic. I wasn’t afraid of injury or really of anything bad happening to us, I was just stuck. Strapped into a seat that I couldn’t get out of. Not a good feeling in my book. Maybe I’ve watched too many crime dramas. I’m not one to bargain with God for things but I’m fairly certain that conversation wasn’t too far away. Lurch. We started to go. 8 cars made it up onto the ascent and it stopped again. You have GOT to be kidding me. After a few seconds, we were suddenly on our way. I went from relief to terror in a nanosecond as we plummeted down the tracks in the first death defying drop. You experience a 4G downforce more than once over 3 and a half minutes of insanity. My legs were as wobbly as noodles as we wound through the park to find Robert and figure out what to ride next.

Goliath may have gotten a higher score from me this time but would I go again? You bet!