Picture Courtesy of http://goaustralia.about.com
(Not that we asked their permission or anything.)
As my premiere article for the death crew I thought I’d choose a subject that was very close to my heart and something I feel strongly about, so what better a thing to write about than theme parks. All the Aussies who read this will realise that I’m talking about the ones you can find on the Gold Coast including Movie World, Dream World and Sea World. Basically they’re like Disney land but on a waaaay smaller scale.
The day started like any other except that on this fateful Friday I was to be scared out of this mouldy rock we know as earth. Like any other wannabe brave person, I started the day with a smirk on my face as I scoffed at the monumental size of the roller coasters. This pseudo-bravery was to be torn apart, like free doughnuts in a cafeteria, as soon as I stepped into the queue for the twisty knot of undying terror, also known as The Corkscrew. Had I not been with my sister then there would have been no chance that I would have stayed in the line that, at my estimate, amounted to half the people in the theme park. I, however, believe that this sibling of mine could scare cancer into remission, so when she tells me to do something, as a rule, I do it. Probably the most convincing argument she put forward for me staying in the queue was when she pointed out to people half my age who were enthusiastically craning their necks to see how far they had to go before their turn. Sufficiently embarrassed by their lack-of fear, I chose to beg my sister quietly for a reprieve, unfortunately to no avail.
As I sat in the roller coaster the harness slipped over my head and fastened around my shoulders. Unfortunately, to me, they didn’t feel like the thing that was going to save me from a mighty large fall, but the fingers of death, himself. We crept up the large climb that seemed to take hours. Possibly the funniest thing about the whole experience were the faces of the people in front of me as they turned around to see me shouting obscenities at my sister and claiming I was going to be ill. It almost makes it worth it, not quite though. I’m a bit hazy on what happened on the remainder of the ride, but I do remember thinking that the roller coaster should have been more aptly called the innards corkscrew because by the end of all of those turns I thought my intestines had turned into a knot.
A great thing about the terrifying experience has to be the huge endorphin release at the end as a result of the adrenaline, I was on a high for a good ten minutes, that is until my sister dragged me onto the next ride. By all means don’t let this discourage from roller coasters because whilst I stumbled off a quivering mess, eight-year-olds skipped off giggling.
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