CHAPTER 2 “Strike Two”
As I got older my Super Bowl streak continued, unfortunately so did my streak with the local police. I remember the day like it was five minutes ago. I heard the news every kid dreams of hearing; the local amusement park was expanding to add a new ride called “The Deathcoaster.” A rollercoaster that had such extreme acceleration they said, if you turned your head the wrong way, at the wrong time, and open your eyes, your eyeballs would be sucked out of your head. They said, if you opened your mouth while it was accelerating full speed, your head would explode. And one foolish guy, during a test ride, decided to pick his nose; they had to surgically remove his hand from his nostril. All I knew, it was super-fast, and I had to ride it.
I started training for the Deathcoaster two weeks before the school trip to the amusement park. I put myself through an intense regiment, push-ups, sit-ups, and death-defiance training. The death defiance training would be accomplished with the help of our crazy neighbor Larry Borelli.
Larry was nineteen or twenty years old and covered in dirt and grease, but he had super ultra-white teeth; he loves those bleaching strips. Larry was always out in his driveway working on his 1970 Dodge Charger, it had a huge fin on the back of the car, it’s called a spoiler. I never knew what a spoiler was for, but it sure looked cool. As fast as his Charger was, Larry spent his day trying to make it go faster - in reverse.
Larry drove in reverse, not just backing up, but reverse at normal speed in traffic, reverse on the freeway, reverse everywhere. When I showed up for my first day of training, Larry tossed me a beaten-up old helmet and a barf bag and said, “Climb aboard.” As I climb in and shut the door, I’m thinking who wears a helmet in a car; I’m not going to need this, but when I heard the REV of the engine, I popped the helmet on and got ready with the barf bag.
The engine sounded like an angry monster that growled on Larry’s command. He liked that, smiling to himself as he revved the engine hard. I panicked and strap myself in.
At first, Larry slowly circles the block in reverse, I can handle this I thought. I glance out and see my neighbor, so I wave to him. He’s horrified to see me in the car with Larry; he immediately pulls out his cell phone and dials, it’s either my mother, the police, or both.
After circling the block a few times in reverse, we pull out onto a main road. Everyone’s so polite to us, at that moment, I realize the carte blanche possessed by crazy people.
Because we’re going backward, I didn’t realize we pulled onto the Interstate. It was scary enough going 55 miles per hour backward, but when we hit 90 mph and crossed three lanes of traffic, I wished I had worn a diaper.
When we got back the first day, I was so dizzy I staggered out of the car and puked in the Greenfield’s mailbox special delivery. After two weeks of intensive training, I was ready to ride the Deathcoaster.
The day was Sunday, June 15, 2016, our school district was having its annual picnic at the local amusement park. As usual, my family made the big mistake of not listening to me. I suggested getting up at four a.m. to be first in line, but noooo, so when we finally got there the line was like two miles long.
They should have charged four tickets for standing in the line. I saw two women give birth, one had twins. My brother met a girl, started dating her, broke up, and is dating her again, I even learned poco Española.
I could hardly contain myself as we approached the loading zone for the Deathcoaster. How lucky I thought; we’re going to be the second family on the next run.
We watch as people disappear into the loading zone. The front of the line was buzzing with energy, we knew we were the next group of passengers to board.
SCREAMS from the people riding the Deathcoaster silence everyone. All we could think was, what caused them to scream like that? Before we know it, we’re shuffled forward into a debriefing station. My heart stops when I see the stupid-looking wooden statue guarding the entrance. I didn’t need to read it, I already knew what it said, if you’re not taller than me, you cannot go on this ride.
My mind shifts into high gear. First, am I taller than that stupid wooden figure; I wish. Second, how can I get taller?
Thinking fast I rush over to a garbage can for supplies. Jackpot! I find everything I need. I attach two soda cans to the bottom of each of my sneakers with gum. I take pink cotton candy and wrap it around the cans transforming my tennis shoes into a really cool pair of pink Ugg Boots. I carefully return to the line and wait for the moment of truth. As I wait, I glance down at my boots and notice the sun starting to melt the cotton candy, oh no!
Finally, it’s my turn, I strut up to the Ticket Taker; he asks for six tickets. I give him ten and tell him to keep the change. He glances down at my fuzzy pink boots and asks me to stand next to the stupid wooden figure. I’m a bit wobbly but with the added height of the soda cans, I’m going to make it easy. I peek down at my boots, and so does the Ticket Taker, oh poop! He looks at my boots and then up at me, then back down at the boots, and back up at me. I’m in trouble, I need to distract him. I say to him, “Did you read the new study that says it’s good to stare at the sun.” The Ticket Taker doesn’t listen, he can’t take his eyes off my dripping pink boots. The hot sun has melted the cotton candy covering.
The jig’s up, without the soda cans, no matter how much I stretch I’m not taller than the stupid wooden figure. I waited in line for three hours, to me, that alone entitled me to ride the Deathcoaster. Security disagrees with my logic and escorts me to a special holding area.
From the holding area, I see the Deathcoaster pull up after finishing the run; the passengers’ faces are distorted into horrific shapes. Each passenger is assigned a medical assistant to help reform their face. It’s much cooler than I had imagined.
The rollercoaster is dark gray and black like a thundercloud, the front of the coaster has a rocket nose with bloody fangs. I’m left alone as my group starts the boarding process. I decide the Deathcoaster isn’t leaving without me. I realized there was only one seat better than the front row, sitting on the nose of the rocket.
I see my chance and like a cat, climb the rail, jump the fence, and leap onto the nose of the coaster. The people boarding can’t see me because of the design. I try to get comfortable but when I hear the sequence of straps, bolts, and bars locking the riders in place I panic and look for a way to hold on.
The coaster begins its final count down, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, BLAST OFF. The G-FORCE slams me back against the face of the coaster. We’re probably going one hundred miles per hour when we round the first bend, I swear my arms stretched five inches as I hung on for my life. When I opened my mouth to scream my head blew up bigger and bigger, and bigger, luckily, we slowed down before it burst. I shut my eyes but open them as the coaster rounded a sharp corner; my eyeballs were sucked out of my head, thank God they held on by that gross, slippery eyeball cord.
It was a huge miracle; the only thing that kept me on the coaster was the sticky cotton candy on my hands and shoes.
An ambulance was there when the coaster pulled up, my Mother, Father, and twenty other people fainted. Of course, the Park Security, Local Police, and Fire are there. I didn’t have to be a genius to know I was in big trouble.