The day Gary retired from Thrill Rides...Its mid-afternoon on an overcast day in Central Florida, and he is wobbly at best after two previous adventures knocked his equilibrium all off kilter. One a massive roller coaster called Kraken that seemingly goes on forever, and one a motion simulator ride on a jacked up high speed helicopter in the arctic. That one was a big mistake. If you ever want to torture Gary for information, dont bother with pain because I have a high tolerance to it, or at least a very stubborn ability to not give up, but put me in a motion simulator. I HATE those things. But he closed his eyes and tried hard to stay centered through it all, and made it. But he was weakened considerably. So here we are being strapped into a wicked ride called, Manta. It simulates the feeling of being a Ray gliding through the sea. My hiney. It simulates doom. One big tip off this isnt going to be right is when they strap your legs and feet. That doesnt happen on normal roller coasters. So there I am shoved into this contraption with no turning back. Then, without warning, we tilt face down to the ground. Oh. Crap. Chugga Chugga we go up the hill, staring at the ground, the sense of doom building with every click and clatter. And then the forces of gravity do what they will do and off we go. Oh my dear God. It was exhilarating, terrifying, and for me already messed up and off balance from the day, nauseating. About halfway through this living nightmare as a Manta Ray, the saliva started building as it will do, and my stomach tied in knots. I just knew I was going to hurl. Surely I wasnt the only one in that shape?? But there was a dude next to me and no way Im being THAT guy. This torment from Hades finally comes to an end and we are pulling back in the station and then we just stop. Just hanging there staring face down at a slab of ugly concrete and Im one second away from blowing. As the beads of cold sweat emerge from my skin, Im thinking how many others must have puked in this same spot. But still I hold it down. The dude. Man stuff. We start moving into the station and youre going so slow its like a parade for the people waiting to see. It adds to the terror. If they zoomed on me they saw a portly middle aged guy ghost white and on his last breath. They finally tilt us back upright and they was indeed another torture further throwing me out of whack. At this point Im swallowing saliva like its being poured from a bottle. I wasnt going to make it. My only thought was get away from the dude quick so he doesnt see this thing defeated me. Rissy held up fine of course. Shes 13. Shes laughing as she can tell Im jacked all kinds of up. We walk down the concourse, me surely like a man that has had a dozen shots of tequila, and Im scoping bushes. I never did puke. I think it would have been too easy on me if I did. The torture would get released. Nope. Im back home now in my chair, and the spirit of Manta is still fresh as when they first clamped me down. Never again I say. Im retired from thrill rides. Know when to walk away from the game :)
Posted on: Tue, 20 Jan 2015 22:19:30 +0000
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