Roller Coasters

When I was in fifth grade, every school kid in North Texas got a day off from school and a free pass to the State Fair of Texas. Parents routinely let their ten-year-old kids spend the day unsupervised in the company of carnival workers and other unsupervised kids — what could possibly go wrong?

That particular year, I was in the company of my friend, Alan. He was that one acquaintance who always pushed me to test the limits. Maybe his parents felt the same way about me because somehow, we always got each other into trouble.

In those days, the state fair boasted an old wooden roller coaster as the scariest ride in the park. Even in 1965, it was already rotten and creaky and looked like it was about to fall down but everyone else was in line to ride it, so we went along.

Worse than the ride itself, was the waiting line to board. It took forever and that whole time, I was trying to reinforce my resolve. I figured riding that old junker was a requirement for proving my manhood. But the closer we got to the entrance, the more nervous I became.

After what seemed like forever, we sat down in the rickety old car and some drunk carny shoved a safety bar down into our laps, locking us in place. He didn’t even bother to wish us “good luck”.

Being dragged to the top of that initial hill while listening to the metal mechanism ratcheting beneath our feet, and wondering what would happen if it slipped and we went crashing backwards into the now-loading set of cars behind us, was nerve wracking.

Finally, we topped the hill and all Hell broke loose. We were falling and swerving and swaying in every direction and it was the greatest adrenaline rush I’d ever known. We wasted half our day standing in line to ride that old junker three more times. And we rode it every year after that.

Sixty years later, I wonder what it is about roller coasters that sucks us in and causes us to spend our hard-earned money on momentary adrenaline rushes. Is it possibly a need to experience danger that’s not ultimately dangerous? To get off at the end of the ride and feel that our survival means we’re omnipotent?

The problem is that the delusion of control drains away our ability to rationally deal with life — a roller coaster without any safety bars or guaranteed outcomes.

Sometimes in life, we don’t even make it to the top of that first hill before the mechanism breaks and sends us screaming backwards into the crowd below us. Sometimes, real circumstances outside our control, go beyond adrenalin rushes and leave us permanently damaged.

It seems to me that the times when I suffered the most serious psychological injuries were occasions when I had something to prove — those times when I was taking chances based on my supposed immunity to destruction and ignoring the warning signs.

Perhaps, the most permanent wounds are those which happen only to “us” while “everyone else” escapes unscathed and we’re left to ponder the unfairness of it all. Sometimes, those are the experiences that I wake up at 4:00Am still pissed off about, even when I thought I’d relegated them to the trash bin of my past.

I’m not a ten-year-old kid anymore with something to prove so I try to hang around with a different crowd — “anti-Alans” who steer me away from the stupidity that I’m normally attracted to instead of egging me on.

My only resolution is to never spend another day at the state fair, looking for distractions and the false sense of security carnival rides instill. I’d rather spend my free time in a quiet place, being thankful for the grace that helped me survive all these years on the unpredictable mega-roller coaster of life on this planet.

A meeting of great minds who think alike