A Minute Of Hell On The Roller Coaster.

scared roller coaster A Minute Of Hell On The Roller Coaster.

The Screaming Eagle.

A massive wooden roller coaster that consumed much of the St. Louis Theme Park. Its enormous size and sharp turns made my stomach turn with anticipation. I remember it like yesterday.

“Daddy I don’t want to go on that. It’s scary.” Within seconds dozens of screaming riders zoomed by as the line slowly inched along. My 10 year old mind couldn’t comprehend that people would voluntarily buckle up, for what must have been their assured death. Heights and intense speed were not my thing.

Against my better judgement, I sat down in the cart looking to my dad for some comfort. “You’ll love it,” he said with a smile.

As we began to climb the the towering drop, my heart began to race. I knew I had made a mistake when the cars of the parking became difficult to see. As we neared the top, I was introduced to a wonderful view of the park below. For a moment I was at peace. Moments soon pass.

A drop. A falling sensation. One minute of hell.

Tears rolled down my face.

For the rest of the afternoon I wouldn’t talk to my father unless it was to tell him how much I “hated” him. My ten year old self vowed never be in that position again. Fear had won the fight.

Years went by without me as so much standing in a line. The Screaming Eagle owned me. I was done with roller coasters for as long as lived. Or so I thought.

Overcoming Fear:

I stood in line and watched, as my brother, four years younger, rode yet another beast of a ride. His fearlessness was unparalleled. My brother was scared, but he chose to face his fears anyways.

Me? I let my fears of the past hold me back. Then at the age of 15 it happened.

I was tired of being paralyzed by my own dread.

I was tired of sitting on the sidelines. I was tired of being the only one of my friends who didn’t enjoy a day at the theme park.

With a bit of courage, I told my dad that I was going to go on any ride that he did: and I meant it.

The first ride? Terrible. The second? Improvement. Slowly but surely I began to grow accustom to the rides that once scared me.

I’ve since ridden several dozen rides, with several of them being the fastest in the world.

Oh, and I’ve even been back to ride the Screaming Eagle. This time sitting in the front seat.

I didn’t just conquer my fear. I owned it.

cc4 A Minute Of Hell On The Roller Coaster. photo credit: kevindooley

 A Minute Of Hell On The Roller Coaster.
Written By Bud Hennekes (@Aboundlessworld): Stirrer of things. Questioner and creator of realities. And believer of dreams. Check out his blog over at Aboundlessworld.com.

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