The click of the belt told me one thing: it was time. I grasped the cold metal bar in front of me, and took a deep breath. Looking down, I could see tiny people, all waiting, dreading their turn. Far ahead of me was a sparkling, blue beauty of a lake, reflecting intense beams from the bright sun above me. My heart raced, my feet planted, and I sat back, waiting. I could hear prayers in the air, anxious tapping, and last minute sighs. With a simple release of breaks, we were off. I heard clicks of wood and metal, one after the other, faster and faster until we reached a gradual stop. At this point, my heart was bound to beat right out of my chest. My sweaty palms could no longer keep a firm clasp on the metal bar in front of me. I was shaking, praying. I felt as if my eyelids were ready to rip open. They couldn't remain shut any longer. My stomach felt like it was supporting my entire body weight. Now, my knees were giving up, and I was ready to fall.
And then we were off, once again.
I don't know why, but I've been having flashbacks of my first time at Cedar Point. I was such a wimp at the time, refusing to go on roller coasters, fussing about having to walk long distances, and constant complaining about the heat. But hey, I was like nine.
When my family finally did talk me into riding a roller coaster, I was still terrified. Not only was it my first time, but I was going to ride the Millennium Force. Yeah, tough stuff. I ended up having a blast, and when I went there again a few years later, I rode just about every roller coaster they had. I now consider myself to be a ride warrior.
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