When I was young I was afraid of everything. Bugs, dogs, people. It didn't matter what it was, I was scared of it. Around the third or fourth grade I tried to toughen myself up in an effort to not grow up to be a punk. (See previous entries for more examples) One such attempt occurred at an amusement park...
The year was 1991. I was nine years old and Amusements of America came to the Stadium Armory Parking lot as they did every year. This year I promised myself that I would get on all of the rides that I was afraid of the year prior. First, let me give myself some credit: I got on the roller coaster, the high slide and the swings. Now that doesn't sound like defying death to the average person, but you have to consider that the carnival came to the 'hood. Ghetto carnivals and official state fairs are two totally different creatures. The latter is a well-funded, annual tradition that has a substantial budget and a certain expectation of safety. Hood carnivals are the exact opposite.
While a state fair usually sets up at the state fair grounds, a hood carnival sets up shop in a mall parking lot, abandoned field or anywhere else they can fit the trucks. I doubt that they really send an inspectors to the hood carnival and half the time they hire neighborhood people to help assemble and dismantle the rides...people with zero experience. With all this said, give me a little credit. The merry go round is the equivalent of russian roulette. Don't believe me? See this article where someone was electrocuted on the bumper cars back in 93.
So back to the story...
I had four tickets left and saved the best ride for last...something that went upside down. I chose the Pirate Ship. You've seen something like this at Kings Dominion or the fair: It's a long boat looking thing and maybe twenty or thirty people can get on. It swings back and forth and some of them go upside down. I met the "You must be this tall" sign exactly. The guy was like..."Go ahead and get on." I sat down, strapped in and he pulled the harness down over my shoulders. Then the ride started.
We swung backwards and then forwards while random people screamed for no reason. We hadn't even lifted up more than three feet off the ground. Some people just like to scream whenever the ride starts. I'm sure the ride operator was used to it...which is why he ignored my screams of "STOP THE RIDE. STOP THE RIDE!" Immediately after he started the ride I heard a pop. My restraints loosened. If you've ever been on a ride, you know that's not supposed to happen...at all...not even slightly.
I'm no expert, but let's assume that the boat ride swings back and forth fifteen times before actually going upside down. In the case of our example, back and forward equals one complete time. The first time it swung, my harness lifted about an inch. The third time it swung my harness moved another inch. By the fifth time it swung, my ass was screaming at the top of my lungs because the restraints were completely up in the air over my head and I was pulling them down with both hands.
Now I was a little ghetto kid. I wasn't whimpering "Please stop." I was yelling every curse word imaginable." By swing number 10 I'd started plotting which part of the ride to try to land on that would hurt the least. Around swing 6, the woman next to me noticed what was going on and began screaming. Luckily, by swing 12 the whole row I was on was screaming at the guy. Remember: 15 swings and the joint flips over. By swing 14 I had the people on both sides of me using their hands to try to hold me the best that they could because we knew what was coming. At the height of that swing, the ride jerked to a stop mid-air and slowly lowered to the ground.
I jumped off that damn thing and the only thing that the man said to me was "You probably were too short for this ride."
WTF!?
No comments:
Post a Comment