Friday, June 1, 2012

This Responsible to Ride

Every middle school within reasonable driving distance has a long standing tradition of taking the graduating class to Lagoon, what Utah has instead of a Six Flags. My school does the ninth graders. Schools who didn't have an overpopulation crisis decades ago and changed the grades around as a result take the eighth graders.
We rode this:

And this:

And these:

This one made my face hurt.

This one apparently goes backwards. Didn't see that coming.
"Who wants to sit in front?" "Oh, I'll do it." Not the smartest thing I've ever done with friends.

Not us-we stashed our bags in the bushes on most of the rides, so I only took one picture and I'm not sure how to upload it. Anyways, you wouldn't think it was possible for me to sit in front again. I am, of course, a reasonably intelligent person. Never mind that it's a round thing in a river, so clearly it turns around a lot.
One of the best parts was getting to see my friend ride her very first roller coaster.

Now, if only I had a picture of the face she made. Her second roller coaster ever was the creatively named "Roller Coaster". It was built in 1921 and burned down sometime in the fifties. They didn't  get any creative ideas when they were rebuilding it, like using metal. And sometime in the sixty years since then, they stopped painting it. People call it "the white roller coaster" to distinguish it from the others. It does look white in pictures, but up close it's mostly brown. You can see the little metal plates holding it together. They're the same color as duct tape, which seems a little suspicious to me.

And we didn't die.

Ah, the Wild Mouse. Tell me, if the corners of the track are rounded, why does it make sharp turns? There's nothing like dangling off the edge while being slammed into your friend as you're shouting your wills to each other. The part that makes it relevant to this blog happened while we were standing in line.
1. I found out who's been leaving those mean 'anonymous' comments because she's too lazy to sign in. And no, Esme, you can't leave another mean retort because I paid back the money I owed you for lunch, ice cream, and admittance into the park in less than twelve hours-plus 9% interest you didn't even ask for.
And now I'm doing math in the summer. Curse you, Ms. Oberg! Actually, I learned how to do proportions in seventh grade from my nice math teacher. Why didn't I just say 'plus $2'? Alright, Esme, you are the smart one. Don't read that.
2. I saw the You Must be This Tall to Ride sign. It brings back the dark days when I was under 46 inches. I feel sorry for all the dwarfs/midgets/pygmies/whatever the polite term is who have to ride the kiddie rides their whole lives.
Height restrictions are one of the most common and sensible forms of ageism. Little kids are so cute. It's less of a tragedy when an adult takes a turn over the edge. But here's what I don't understand. The sign said persons under 46 inches (117 centimeters) were not permitted to ride and persons under 50 inches (127 centimeters) were not permitted to ride unless accompanied by a responsible person. Not a responsible adult, a responsible person. That's a first one. I like it, but it doesn't really make sense if you think about it. At 46 inches, your life is in danger if you ride this roller coaster. Come back next year and you're fine, so long as a responsible person is next to you the whole time. Maybe 50 inchers are still tall enough to be thrown from the cart, but any responsible person would reach out and grab hold of a leg and keep hold throughout the whole jarring, dipping ride.
I'd certainly hope most people would try, regardless of age.

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