Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Right around the second bank on the Hurler, during a stark and painful reminder of why I dislike wooden roller coasters, it occurred to me I didn’t know what exactly was keeping the train on the track. It certainly wasn’t gravity, nor was it a sterling safety record, judging by the abundance of protruding nails. No, it was sound rollercoasterology, or Jesus, which kept us on the straight and narrow. Probably Jesus.

My equilibrium is still intact. Class-5 rides were the mainstay, in fact, and I found a pleasant symmetry when I discovered the Intimidator–my hands-down favorite coaster there–was designed by Bolliger & Mabillard, makers of the Raging Bull. I savored the tension of that lift hill three times, courtesy of the Fast Lane pass. This $40 upcharge was a necessity on Saturday, with 30,000 attendees racking up wait times of one, two, three hours.

The pass was douchey, in a sense, because it enabled you to cut hundreds of people repeatedly, but hey–first-world problems, right? There were glares and mutters, to be sure, and we concluded that Fast Lane etiquette topped out at back-to-back turns on a given ride. It simply wasn’t advisable to try a third consecutive go, lest you incite mob lynchings. That’s not the name of a ride, either.

It also occurred to me that the mark of a good amusement park attraction is the death-to-thrill ratio, a concept I shared to the approbation of my peers. When these contraptions creak and groan, you can’t but help be reminded of your mortality. On a lame ride like the WindSeeker, for instance, you might say to yourself, “Man, if my seat detached, my last thought would be about how boring this thing is.” But if the same thing were to happen on NightHawk or Afterburn? Fuck yes.