3.2.1.Launch. The sound of everyone screaming behind me is irresistible. I just have to scream too. So I do. Eyes. I’m seeing differently. They're turning into GoPros of their own. 100 miles per hour. My mom is squinting her eyes. She doesn’t want to lose her contacts. 125 miles per hour. Full speed. We’re going up. Fast. 300 feet. People yelling, “I don’t want to roll back!” 420 feet. Tops. The screaming rises. The stomach drops. I can see Canada from where I am.
Lake Erie. Maybe I can swim in it soon. I think all about it for a little bit. The blue near ocean waves crashing along the sand, the perfect temperature for a summery day. But then I get back to reality. I’m going down. Canada is soon out of sight. I’m feeling the wind hitting me on my face. I’m losing my breath (and I think I’m losing my face, too). Everybody’s screaming wakes me up from my daydream. My mom’s swearing.
It ends. For 5 years I didn’t want to go on this thing. But it’s all over. All over so fast. My hair hasn’t moved (astonishingly). I’m feeling weak. Shaking. Violently. I’m getting back to the past. A girl just about ready to go on the second tallest roller coaster in the world. Waiting 45 minutes in line and then giving up, not wanting to go on the ride at all. I jump off the ride and look for her and her dad.
I never found her. She might of left for home. I just wanted to tell her that it was the best ride at Cedar Point, maybe ever. Well, it was worth the try.
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