On Friday, we took the day off for A-'s birthday, and went to 6 Flags America, a local amusement park.

I haven't been to an amusement park in at least a couple of decades. And prior to Friday, I think I'd been on a rollercoaster exactly twice. As time as gone by, I've lost all sense of immortality (see Fear of Heights) and I'm now quite terrified by flimsily-supported altitude ~ although flying doesn't bother me a bit.

I was, however, determined to face my fears and not be a wet blanket. The upshot of it was that I went on every rollercoaster but one: Roar, The Wild One, TwoFace, Ride of Steel, Batwing, and The Mind Eraser. The one I skipped looked like it did too much spinning around and I didn't want to get a headache.

The scariest: The Ride of Steel, which starts off with an open-car ascent up a steep incline to what feels like hundreds of feet. I realized that I was sitting on the outside of the car, with nothing but air off to my left. Aaaaaagh. All the falling and swooping and what-not after that ascent was a relief in comparison.

The most fun: The Batwing, where essentially you are suspended face-down as you go whizzing around. Except for the g-forces that push you into a harness which could be a bit snugger, it's as close to flying as I've gotten in my waking life. By this time, I was sufficiently adrenalin-drained and desensitized by previous rides to the point where I was able to pretty much relax, resign myself to the possibility of a gruesome death, and have a great time.

The park was an exercise in pluralistic demographics. Apparently just about everyone likes to scream their head off because their stomach has just slammed against the inside top of their skull. Desmond Morris's hypothesis that laughter is a combination of a fear response (scream) with a recognition response (smile) seems borne out by the observation that virtually everybody's screams turn to laughter at some point in a rollercoaster ride.

Hell, yeah, I'd go again!

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