Woobang Towerland Adventure

There was rust on the metal rocker arm. I couldn’t help but wonder who cleaned these things. Who greased the joints. Who made sure they were still safe. Maybe nobody. Maybe that’s part of the thrill.

We spun one more time, hair dangling towards the pavement below. Paused. Just long enough for the blood to fill our cheeks. And spun again. Dipping low swinging over the laughing, phototaking line standers below.

I thought of that girl in Kentucky who lost her feet on the Superman ride. I felt a twinge of real fear make it a real thrill. I held my breath and closed my eyes.

The rides were short, brutal, poorly maintained or broken. Paint chipping, wheels grinding. Each time I climbed in I silenced the complaints of my churning stomach. Each time I stepped off I massaged my aching joints.

But it was just the place I needed to be. We were all smiles. The three of us. Smiles and groans.