The Secret's In The Scream, Not The Sauce I have a thought; to be a roller coaster designer, one does not require an engineering degree, or an expert grasp of physics. What is required is a detailed examination of all the Road Runner, Coyote cartoons. Every coaster I got onto, I have looked for the ACME logo. But seriously folks, I've become totally enthralled by the sheer joy of release that a good scream, while being propelled at high speed in several directions at once, can bring to you. To be truthful however my first roller coaster experience was pure terror. My first roller coaster ride was Phantom's Revenge at Kennywood in Pittsburgh; one of the oldest amusement parks in the US. Its longest drop is 228' and it attains speeds of up to 82 mph. The moment I began strapping in I felt the onrush of adrenaline, my heart began to race and thoughts of escape came to mind. I felt like I was about to be whipped around held in place by nothing at all but good will and hopes. Then it began. The click, click, clank, clank, clank of the coaster climbing to its launch position, the diminishing smell of heavy machine grease and oil whipped away by the blowing wind as we climbed into its domain. I watched as the ground changed from a safe haven to a weapon of mass destruction. I shook as the cars got higher and higher, and the lethality of the thickness and hardness of Planet Earth dawned on me; something we humans never think about when we are standing on it, but becomes all too clear as the distance between us and it increases. 228' to the groundAnd then we were off. That distance diminished at a speed that left a streak of tears plastered down the side of my face. And as per usual I held it in. Kept the scream of pure terror that wanted to rip its way out of my gut and tear the air to shreds tightly bottled up. I am a man, men don't scream. In my mind a 1 min ride stretched on forever. Turns, dips, drops seemed to be coming at me in an endless fusillade of unrelenting firepower. And then it was over. It took a few seconds for my brain to make it through the last few turns and catch up with the rest of me. I staggered out of the cars, of course not visibly, and turned to look back at the instrument of torture as it towered over me. I watched as it swayed with excitement; about to unleash its barrage on more unsuspecting victims, all laughing and excited, as the behemoth's servants strapped them in like hor's d'oeuvres, and shuddered. The Phantom's Revenge had done nothing to allay my fears of the destruction a roller coaster, unchecked by its track, can wreak on its riders and anyone within a 100-foot radius. But I was not going to be defeated by anything manmade. My next experience was on the thrill ride Pit Fall. You're lifted to a height of 229 feet and dropped. For 150 of those feet you experience as freefall at a speed of 65 mph. I strapped myself in, felt the nut crushing that is part of the attendants’ test of your restraints, and was lifted up to a wonderful view, of the river, some boats, and then the ground, which for some reason had grown claws and huge fangs once again. Click....... At 228 feet I lost the ability to breathe. I was descending faster than my lungs could combat gravity and pull air down my nasal passages. At 220 feet my organs decided they wanted to see the sunlight with my liver leading the charge. From then on my brain was too busy trying to quash a rebellion for me to even think of fear. The remaining 142 feet whizzed by in a blur, coming to an end in a hiss of compressed air. Now I have been clocked, from the air, at horizontal speeds in excess of 75 mph, or so the Ohio State Police claim, but traveling vertically at 65mph will remain with me for a long time. I happily staggered to the next ride on our list; happily because my brain had stamped out the rebellion and my organs had returned to their places and functions. Happily because I had survived once again and had not screamed. I would equate my first experiences on roller coasters and thrill rides to the time I almost drowned as a kid growing up. I had watched my cousin, one year older than I, dive off the end of a jetty and start swimming out to his father’s boat. So, thinking "hey if he could do it…so can I", I followed him and dove off the end of the jetty. Cool. Then I tried to stand up and found no ground within reach of my feet. That vision is emblazoned on my memory. I can still see the brightly colored fish, barnacles and other marine life that lived on and under the jetty pass by my eyes as I slowly sank to the bottom, once, twice, and halfway the third time before my cousin swam back and saved me. I had dived into the deep end, faced the fear, and have never been afraid of deep water since. So having gone into what felt to me like the deep end of the roller coaster pool, the slower coasters we went onto afterwards had almost no effect on me. I wouldn’t say I was able to completely enjoy them, but the terror had been reduced to quiet misgiving. It was about this time the love of my life, and my inspiration for this insane trek into the land of man made maulers, started talking about her favorite ride. As she eloquently described the joy she felt on her favorite ride, I shuddered and hoped she did not see the growing terror I hid behind my smile. With each detail of rapid ascents followed by even faster descents, sharp twists and turns that brought you close to the ground, the terror grew. She described an unknown horror that, to her, made Phantom’s Revenge look like a slow ride on a merry-go-round. It took us almost three weeks to get to the Six Flags America in Maryland, where her favorite ride lived and fed. And in that time I was on an internal roller coaster. Every thought would almost assuredly wander its way back to what lay ahead. The dark unknown juggernaut waiting to sup on my fear, and at the rate it was building within me, it would be well fed for a while. Then the day came and we were there. From the vantage point of the line I could see a few coasters but not the one she spoke of. They seemed to be not in operation so a small voice in me celebrated. Maybe just maybe I would escape. We entered the park and she asked “what should we do first?” Incredulously I heard myself say “let’s go find the Superman.” We walked to the back of the park where it lived. Slowly it came into view; a mountain of steel cresting at 205 feet. As I stared up at it, hypnotized by the dance of steel, I heard a voice from far away say “it looks closed,” then I heard an even more distant voice, my voice, say “I can see the gears turning at the top. Let’s go check it out.” We got to the line just as the first loaded car climbed the slope. The line was so short, it was almost non existent. It seemed that whatever powers there may be had conspired to get me hurtling into the maw of this monster as fast as possible; removing any chance of escape. Then that far away voice again said “we’re going in the front car. It’s my favorite.” This time I could not control the shudder. I felt as though a million volts exploded throughout my body. I was on automatic pilot heading steadily towards my doom. My brain and various other body parts were screaming run, run, but my body kept moving towards the feeding trough. Within minutes we were loaded and checked to ensure there was no escape. Click, Click, Click We began to climb at an amazing rate. Midway up I had an out of body experience. With Zen-like calmness I watched as we got closer to the top. I felt nothing. I felt no fear. I was completely disconnected. I would liken this to the state of shock the human body goes into when the senses are overwhelmed. Click………..click………….click………. We crested, and as my eyes peered over the hump, down the twist of the track, my trance state evaporated in a wisp of smoke. My body trembled as reality hit hard with a resounding clang. Colors increased intensity, clouds skidded across the sky, and those ants that looked like people began insane high speed movements throughout the park. Clank. Down we spiraled. I remember almost nothing except the scream. A gut wrenching scream that ripped through the air. Through uncountable twists, turns, drops, and sudden ascents it permeated. It seemed to be coming from everywhere. There was no escape, no running from it. The mild breeze that had turned into a hurricane lost the battle in trying to whip the sound away as it roared in my ears. Then it changed. Like a breaker thrown and switches reset, the scream that had begun as pure terror turned into one of excitement. And with that change in tone my body relaxed. That was when I realized that it had come from me. I was the source of the scream. The scream I had held in since Phantom’s Revenge had been ripped out of me by the Man of Steel. And with that release, the fear, the terror, the quiet misgivings, all died at its feet. And well let’s just say the rest is history. From then on I realized that just letting go, not holding it in was what I had needed to do. After a lifetime of holding back I had for the first time just let go. I was no longer worried about how it would look to be showing such unbridled emotion. Coaster after coaster fell at the onslaught of the scream. And with each one my enjoyment grew. I had learned a lesson late in life, and for the first time allowed myself to truly hold fast to one of my favorite sayings. Relax and let go.
Copyright © 2008 Nigel N Samtin |