David Levy

The riders are then bound together and then a crane drags them backward and up into the air until they are even with the top of the arch and facing the ground.

This is about where we came in that day and we watched as the attendant gave the riders the thumbs up.

This was their cue to pull the ripcord, releasing them from the crane, causing them to free fall until the cables to their harnesses went taut and they began to swing like a pendulum down through the arch, out over our heads and into the air like they were flying.

This is the first ride we see when we get to the park that day.

And when Tyson sees it, he says, I want to ride that one.

So full confession, I'm not a big fan of thrill rides.

In fact, I'm utterly terrified of them.

Whenever I've gone to an amusement park with friends, they would have to goad me all day long to ride even one.

And if I did, it was only with knuckles wiped from clutching whatever safety device I had at my disposal.

And then to keep myself calm, chanting my favorite mantra over and over in my head.

Competent engineers designed this ride.

Competent engineers designed this ride.

And if that didn't work, this ride has been operated thousands of times safely before now.

Over and over until the ride was over and I could begin to put the unpleasantness behind me.

This was my history with thrill rides.

So he's pulling on my arm, saying, let's go, let's go.

But I'm paralyzed in place.

And I'm wondering how it is possible that I could know that this moment has been coming for two years, and yet I'm still entirely unprepared for it.

And so I swear it was just a stall when I said, I don't know, Tyson.

That ride looks kind of scary to me.