Speed, Danger, and Height: a rollercoaster survival guide

“Universal? Oh, so you like rollercoasters?” This question came up almost every time I mentioned my plans for Spring Break.

My answer: “Uh…”

Inside, my “uh” quickly turned into “AHHHH!”

Maybe I still hadn’t recovered from my last rollercoaster experience. Years ago, my pre-teen self stumbled off of Space Mountain, shaking and crying.

Would my 20-year-old self be emotionally stable enough to tackle rollercoasters—the sky-high, top-speed, man-made version of fun?

When our group (Alessia, her brother Tamer, Krista, Jason, and Alyssa) stopped outside of the Rip Ride Rockit rollercoaster at Universal, Alessia asked me if I wanted to try the rollercoaster. I was faced with a YES or NO decision.

YES meant risking my life and potentially plummeting 65 miles an hour from a steel rollercoaster.

NO meant safety and—but NO wasn’t even an option. I paid for this! Time to figure out if I could survive what I’d signed up for.

My nerves didn’t quiet during the hour-long line for the Rip Ride Rockit. By the time we reached the top of the platform, my stomach was completely twisted and I genuinely felt like throwing up (note: this was before I even got on the ride).

I stepped onto the moving conveyer belt and prayed, “Please, God, I’m ready to die, just not like this. Don’t let anything break or go wrong.”

I sat down next to Tamer and checked the safety bar three times. The car rolled forward then creaked upward, straight into the blue Orlando sky. Sunlight hit my eyes, distracting the bundle of nerves inside me.

The car tipped over the top of the curve, then with a lurch, we dived down!

Wind raced around me, sky then grass then buildings flashing around me in a fast blur. My heart thudded in my chest and I screamed as loud as I could during the entire ride.

I had never felt more alive. 

I tried to raise my hands, but the wind jerked my arms back down. I laughed, and continued to scream out. All I know is that the entire time we raced through the sky, I screeched out an endless variety of:

“I’m alive!” “This is so worth it!” “We’re going to die!” 

During the next three days, I went on every rollercoaster I could, and revisited the Rip Ride Rockit two more times.

Though I craved the height and the danger and the speed, I still prayed for safety. Our time at Universal ended with the same rollercoaster. This time Tamer and I sat in the front row, where our ride was filmed (a minor detail no one told me until after the fact).

Right as the car started to inch forward, Tamer jiggled his safety bar. “Wait, no, it’s loose. Janise, look it’s loose! It’s not tight enough.”

I knew he was kidding, but my crazed eyes jerked to his ‘safety’ bar. “Oh please, it’s fine. You’re fine!”

The car shot up in the air. Tamer pressed against the back of his chair. “No! It’s too loose! I’m going to fall!”

“Stop it!” I said with a gasp, just as the car tipped over the edge and sped down. Tamer spread out his arms and legs, as if he was falling, and screamed.

But I screamed louder, then laughed, speeding through the air, until the wind forced tears from my eyes.

Once on solid ground, our group checked out the video feed of the ride. On the video, Tamer was laughing, but I looked completely traumatized. According to Alessia, I looked as if I “was being tortured.”

Despite video evidence to the contrary, I actually loved that ride and every rollercoaster ride I was able to experience.

That second night, after I overcame my rollercoaste[image error]r fear, Jason drove us all to Disney Springs. His van sped down the highway. I sat in the front seat, writing about the trip on my iPhone.

I was interrupted mid sentence when Jason slammed on the brake to avoid colliding with the abruptly stopped car in front of us. The van barely stopped in time.

My heart caught in my throat. In the backseat, Alessia slid forward, catching herself on the back of my chair. I shook off the shock and finished writing, knowing that our Orlando adventure would be anything but slow and safe.

A stream of silver headlights to my left.                                                                                         And above and in front of me, reaching toward the horizon, a rush of red taillights.          City lights press up into the darkness of the night sky.                                                              And with a lurch of the steering wheel, the van swerves to the left.

My heartbeat catches in my throat.                                                                                              Still alive!                                                                                                                                                  Adrenaline drums through my veins, spelling adventure in the danger.                         Between fast reflexes and last second saves, we haven’t crashed yet.                                        Of course, it’s only day two.