G.+Narrative+Essay

Swooshing, swirling, screaming and turning are some of the things I thought about when I heard “roller coaster”. Whenever I hear the screaming, I felt the hair on my neck rise in spiraling fear. The wind rushing at my face made me feel ill. My stomach had a huge knot growing ever so larger and larger the more I contemplated over it. I did not want to ride roller coasters because of the stories I heard, or look way to fast, and they looked really unsafe. A few years ago I read a story in the newspaper about a roller coaster. A man was riding when geese started to peck at his face and harmed him terribly. I did not like the sound of that so I avoided roller coaster for a long while. Then another story reached my ears. I think it was a rumor, but being eight and terrified, I believed my friend, who told me that someone was riding a roller coaster and the harness flew open and he flew too. It probably did not help that some cartoons I watched had roller coaster mishaps; funny as they were, they made my imagination run wild. When I watched the daring people go through the line on to the death machine, I thought them brave for going so fast. I never liked wind going really fast in my face; it made me feel that I could not breathe. When people explained to me that they go, “really, really super fast, man!” obviously it pushed me further away from speedy cart. One time I was standing under one and the wind hit me so it had taken me off guard and scared me. I thought the buffeting of the wind at that the speed would make me vomit, an example of another stereotype of the roller coaster. In some stories the roller coaster of horror is rickety and very high. I also have a mild fear of heights, so the roller coaster had two fears in one. When I thought of the high altitudes, I only imagine the long fall if a part failed and ruined the machine. Some have been running for years and years, so the age could slowly break down the coaster. The one thing that made me fearful of roller coasters the most was all the ones where people’s feet hang out. Those types of coasters look the most unsecure and I feel I may fall out at any time. My fears will come to an end when I went to Busch Gardens three days in a row last summer. My Mom, Stepdad, and my best friend pressured me into riding a roller coaster. The intense fear and anxiety gripped my spine like the coldest stone on a mountain top. Nevertheless I stayed in the line determined to face the fear that has made my fun limited to enjoying multiple rides over and over. I sat down in the cart and slowly clicked the harness as though it were the final moments in death row. The mechanized bullet began to slowly climb the ramp; each clicking sound was like the last seconds of my life passing by. It reaches the top and stops, making me look at the ant-like people below. Consequently as I started to relax, the ride dropped faster than I could blink. I closed my eyes, frightened of the scene, and yelling at the top of my lungs. As the air left the fear subsided and excitement took its place. I began to smile, yelling, but with laughter hidden. When the ride came to a stop I felt exhilarated and raced to the end of the line to ride at least one more time. My fear was lost and I could ride anything in the park, so my story comes to a close with one final thought: people should not miss out on what could the most fun and exciting time of their life…but remember moderation.