Just Don't Stop at the Top

I can ride any amusement park death trap. Really! From the ground I even LOVE to. It matters not who's running it; a pimply teenager, or a toothless, grizzly old woman. They can spin me, they can jerk me up and down and around again, even take me completely upside down in a series of loopittyloops. Standing up, sitting down, feet dangling, I will take almost anything. I will handle it.

Just as long as they don't stop at the top.

There's isn't anything more terrifying to me than the creaking of metal on metal when a Ferris wheel stops at the top of the world and your companion delightedly kicks their feet, pointing out the sights in the distance. Nothing more terrifying for me, anyway. For the person seated next to me, thinking they're on a child friendly pleasure ride, I'm the most terrifying thing in the world.

I'll sit there, cranky, in a cold sweat, paranoid, and alternating between frozen, white lipped silence and involuntary rocking or twitching or trembling of one kind or another. I will grip whatever sort of oh shit bar is provided as if I am single-handedly saving us from falling. Of course while I say cranky they might describe it more as demon inspired fury. Not at first but after I hiss "Don't fucking move!" they'll be hoping they remembered to bring along holy water for sure.

I have to move through fear. I can't sit still waiting. I'm impatient and lash out at anyone not taking my fear seriously. I need to do things, to improve the situation, to feel I'm directing my own fate in some way, or if nothing else, to distract myself.

On one of our early dates The Man took me to the Rose Festival. It was yet another case of miss-aligned expectations between us. Over the phone I had admitted I "wasn't much of a ride person" but "enjoyed amusement parks anyway". He agreed, said he felt the same way. Turned out he meant he only rides two or three of the biggest scariest rides and I meant I can eat six bags of cotton candy in thirty seconds. We had to compromise, and chose an umbrella version of a Ferris Wheel first thing. I'm a big fan of mind over matter, I spent most of our wait time, in the line, psyching myself up for it. This technique isn't for amateurs, I've fine-tuned my ability to maintain under extreme conditions since childhood. You're going to need denial, false bravado, and possibly a spare change of underwear.

As usual I was fine right up until we got to the top. My version of fine is me with my head down looking at my feet not moving a muscle, completely absorbed in internally convincing myself I'm not about to die. Or if I am about to plummet there's some chance I might be able to grab a bar or something if I pay attention closely enough. It's extremely absorbing, to pay attention so closely. Ears fine-tuned for any hint of a loose screw, eyes darting between anything solid and right next to me to the carnie with our fate in his greasy hands. Anything anyone says comes to my ears through a thick fog, filtering any information not life or death out.

"Dew(ed)!" his voice was excited "what are you doing? Look up! Are your eyes closed? Look how far you can see!" This got in. keeping my eyes nearly shut and not pointed toward the horizon was life or death.

"No. It's cool. I'm fine." he was bending over, trying to see my face "Hey, maybe you could not move so much." I said awkwardly, turning my face away.

"What, like this?" He rocked his body back and forth causing the basket-like contraption we were in to sway almost imperceptibly. It was like elephants were turning over in a waterbed.

"STOP!" my voice was shrill and loud so I quickly lowered it "Don't… don't do that, okay?"

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, I'm fucking serious!" and we were right back to shrill!

"Okay." he agreed, reluctantly. I sensed he was still considering curing me of my fear by scaring me more.

"Please, Man. Don't move, okay? Just don't move."

"Do you want me to make them let us off?"

"No! I want you to have fun!" I demanded, but of course he couldn't.

"Can I at least hold your hand?"

"Do you have to?"

"No. But I want to."

"D you want to because you think I want you to or because you want to for you?" I would totally have held his hand if HE needed me to.

"What?"

"Cause I don't want to!" quickly I added "I'm sorta holding on here, Man." I nodded my head toward my hands gripping the seat and he laughed inside, in that way he has.

"It's almost done." he assured me, his arms were thrown wide and he had his head thrown back in relaxation. I gave up my statue pose again to give him a brief nod.

Finally we stepped off the ride onto solid ground. I quickly pulled out a pack of cigarettes and hot boxed the lucky red in about thirty seconds. "So. What next?" I asked him, grinning, though my forehead takes a long time to chill out.

"Are you kidding?"

"No. I know you want to go on something else." I inhaled and exhaled while he stared at me, amazed. "So, what's it gonna be?"

"You're nuts." he shook his head at me. "Why would you do that if you're so scared of rides?"

"I'm not scared of rides!" I stomped my foot in mock anger. "What if I getcha a hot, brave ride partner?" he laughed out loud.

"You think I'm joking? It's easy. Let's go."

See, that? That's a pro-move, getting an understudy to carry on for you. We were already streaming in with the crowd and I had to shout at his back "Hey, Man! First we need cotton candy!"

"What, as bait?" he joked

"Oh. I guess so. But I'm not really going to share it." I sighed, knowing I would share it. "We should get the giant bag"