As I sat on the blistering hot bench, at the peak of the sun’s power, I watched a man come undone.

Most other visits I made to the amusement park included my own consumption of thrilling, heart-pounding entertainment, but at that particular moment I was content to just sit and breathe in the world around me. It wasn’t a place that I frequented often and I was always overcome in one way or another by the feelings that would surround me–the happiness, the frustrations, the resignation, the excitement, the…everything.

When I decided to sit down on that particular day at that particular time, I didn’t have a person or family picked out for my perusal. It was more of a desire to see the faces of all the brave people that decided to ride Shake, Rattle, and Roll (dun-dun-duuunnn). It was an exceptionally rickety looking ride that flung the occupants head over feet over and over and over and OVER again until at least one person’s personal item went flying to the oil stained concrete beneath it. 

I, myself, had tried the vomitous attraction earlier in the day and still had the mild nausea to prove it. It had felt uncomfortable being squished in between profusely sweating people while having a foul smelling safety harness pressed against my breasts (trust that a mammogram has nothing on that confining sensation) and the loading process took so long that my face began to burn and I felt that I was sucking in fire with every open-mouthed gasp.

But I wasn’t going to ask to get off of that ride no matter how tortuous the experience became. Mostly because I needed to know that I could do it but also because I was never going to make that walk of shame. Was I going to be the completely uncool person that made everyone wait even longer for the ride (because there hasn’t been a ride in the world that didn’t take a billion years to reload)? Not even if someone offered me a million dollars. A Klondike bar? Maybe. But no, no, no to a million dollars–I had to be sure that I would be able to celebrate reaching my extremely small and nonsensical goal. 

So I rode it and I hated it and I basked in the glory of not being a complete scaredy-cat as I stumbled my way off the ride and down the scorching hot, skin-melting, metal stairs. I was very pleased with myself personally, but I also found myself preening a bit and nodding along to the waiting thrill seekers that looked at me with respect in their eyes. Because I knew what feelings they would soon be voluntarily attempting themselves, I bobbed my head up and down and gave them a reassuring smile trying to convey through non-verbal cues (because I was still a bit too shaken for words) that it was going to be something of a crazy experience and that they were going to be just fine when they came out on the other side. (And yes, my very expressive nods conveyed all of that important information.)

After an all too needed jaunt to the closest ladies room, I decided that I needed to calm my nerves, take a break, and just breathe it all in. Which is how I found myself on a blistering hot bench, at the peak of the sun’s power. If there was going to be anything of interest gleaned from my (all too obvious) voyeurism at the park, it was probably going to find its way into my orbit via Shake, Rattle, and Roll (dun-dun-duuunnn). As I found my skin getting scorched again, I sat patiently and watched the sweaty scene unfold before me.

Kids pulled their parents to the line, jumping and laughing at the wonderful fun they were going to have, only to find out that they still would have to grow a few more inches for the honor. Groups of teenagers dared each other to attempt the ride as each individual friend shuffled in various degrees of apprehension while they entered the line. Grandparents offered to take the belongings of beloved family members (so as not to even be considered for the joys of thrill ride participation) and spent their time setting up a family base camp under the nearest patch of shadows to wait until they were all reunited again.

And for all of those different entities entering my eyesight, I found myself drawn to a group of four people that couldn’t quite commit to the idea of getting on the ride. They entered the line and proceeded to have a serious discussion on how long the wait was going to be, and if it would ultimately be worth their time. Then one woman seemed to change her mind and shake her head as she tried to push past the ripe and glistening future riders behind them. Her largest companion put a hand on her shoulder to get her to stop, and then leaned close to whisper into her ear. His hand moved to between her shoulder blades and he began rubbing circles into her skin. Her eyes squeezed tightly as she sighed and she turned around to rejoin the others. I was supremely proud of her and made a low energy fist pump beside my steaming thigh.

The four companions weaved their way through the rickety wood labyrinth that led to their ultimate destination with nary a worry between them. The woman had seemed to fully embrace her fate and no longer showed any fear of what was to come, and there seemed to be a calm, if not a sense of boredom, emanating from their persons (because who among us has mastered the art of entertaining ourselves in a long, hot, never-ending line in the middle of summer?). They really must have been okay with everything they were enduring because they ended up waiting about 30 minutes (or one severe sunburn for me).

Their little group finally made their way to the loading area and they seemed to be fairly calm while simultaneously sharing a nervous laugh. The squeaking gates that protected those who rarely deigned to listen to ride instructions opened and they surged forward to their seats. (Move all the way to the end and do not leave any spots open!) The largest man helped the woman into her seat and locked her seatbelt. She still seemed put together and ready, if not excited, for the upcoming “fun”. He then forced himself into the slightly too small seat and attached the seatbelt to himself. Nothing noteworthy was happening at this point, yet I couldn’t get myself to look away. His eyes drifted shut and his head leaned back into the headrest. He looked for all the world as if he was just going to take a short siesta on the dreaded Shake, Rattle, and Roll (dun-dun-duuun). 

And then the employees came around to push the all too smelly harnesses down onto the riders. Feet dangled as they used their whole body weight to push the necessary protection down and secure upon them. All was going well until the man suddenly sat forward as if awakened by a gunshot. His head swiveled back and forth and his eyes were frozen open in fear. He clawed at his seatbelt and wiggled his way out of his seat. He hadn’t gotten to the part where he would have been confined under an unrelenting harness, so he didn’t disrupt the loading process too much at that point, but he tried to shimmy his way past the other riders in his row and could not gain any ground. The ride left so little room for extra space and he was far too large to slip past the knees of his companions. The woman placed a hand on his arm and quietly spoke into his ear. He pulled his arm away from her and turned to go out through the other side of his row. But he was met with an employee that had just pushed the safety bar down onto his neighbor. He was well and truly trapped. 

The employee tried to encourage the man to get back into his seat, but it was clear by his body language that he was in a panic and he needed to get off the ride. Like, NOW! An arm flew into the air and soon followed a large hissing sound released from the looming contraption. Loud banging noises began to permeate the air as all of the riders that had already been prepped and ready to go had their harnesses unlatched. The collective groan from the participants could probably have been heard at the front gates. And the man could not have cared less. 

Because there was no leg room for him to attempt a somewhat dignified retreat, half of his row had to stand up and shift their way off the ride. He was so eager to get off that he was all but pushing the woman he was with out of his way. And he never said a word. At least, not with his mouth. But his bulging eyes and the rapid fire movement of his head moving back and forth told a story that almost anyone could understand. He finally staggered to the exit stairs, rushed over to the first patch of partially green grass he could find, and collapsed onto his back. 

The ride continued as if nothing had gone amiss and the man eventually sat up to hang his head between his knees. I couldn’t see any tears but I felt that they were probably present somewhere, whether it was inside or outside of his eyes. The ride rolled over and over and over and OVER again just above his head and slightly to the side, making it difficult for him to be completely free of his distress. I felt really bad for him and I realized that he wasn’t uncool for not going on the ride. He was brave to have made it so far into the actual process before he was overcome. He may have inconvenienced the other riders a tad, but they certainly had to have forgotten all about it when their bodies were finally in motion and defying gravity.

The ride finally ended and his companions filed down and out of the exit stairs. They swiveled their sweaty heads back and forth as they looked for their friend but couldn’t find him down low to the ground as he was. He put his hands on his knees and looked to be preparing to push himself to his feet when he paused to look up to the sky and take a deep cleansing breath. His right hand swiped at his eye as if to wipe away his fears. Slowly, slowly he found his way to his feet and over to his rapidly concerned friends. The woman rushed to his side and squeezed him around his middle until a smile finally appeared on his whitened lips. As they started to walk away she began to rub his back between his shoulder blades, rubbing circles into his skin. 

I took one last look at the controlled chaos around me and sighed as I peeled my legs from the dirty grittiness of the bench. It was time to go home.

© DRB 2024

Photo by Ethan Hoover on Unsplash