I am a big baby when it comes to certain kinds of rides. Put me on a coaster and I’m fine. I breeze through anything that spins, swings or slides. But if it drops or stops at great heights COUNT ME OUT!
Well, that’s what I tried to say to my wife, Melissa.
But through brute intimidation, intimations that I lacked masculinity and outright mockery, she goaded me into the queue for the Hollywood Tower of Terror.
In a disassociative state, I wandered through the lobby, into a brief line to the video presentation and down into the dank clanking basement to catch my ride into… the Twilight Zone.
I enjoyed the first few floors, but all too soon we reached the climax of our journey. In desperation, I clutched at my wife’s hand as we plummeted to our deaths, squeezed my eyes tight until… we safely disembarked in the lobby.
I elected not to buy the shameful picture of my cowardice.
After the harrowing ride had passed, I had to admit that there was an element of fun to this brush with my own mortality. Emboldened by my survival, we rode it again. And this time, I even left my eyes open… a little.
Do you remember your first time taking the plunge? Tell us about it in the comments!