The Fine Line Between Thrill and Nausea
If you’ve known me for quite a while now, I have the reputation of being a spoilsport.
Under normal circumstances, I am not a thrill-seeker or an adventurer. My idea of cheap thrills is to smoke at a gasoline station: it’s safe, but you never know when you’ll be in the middle of a disastrous explosion a’la Zoolander.
My life is boring, redundant, and has no surprises: just the way (a-ha, a-ha) I like it.
Not when you’re with your workmates at Enchanted Kingdom and almost everyone wants to go to this ride:
Oh yes. Maestro, play Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana.
It’s not my first time to go to Enchanted Kingdom, but I never, ever, rode the Space Shuttle. My hatred for rollercoasters is fear-induced; when it comes to carnival rides, I’m your regular sissy. Just because I have a strong tolerance for alcohol doesn’t mean that I can stomach whirlybird rides. Whenever I’m at Enchanted Kingdom, I make a beeline for the arcade machines, the Ferris Wheel, and the exit.
I managed to stay away from the Space Shuttle because whenever I’m there, it’s on maintenance. At this time of the year, and at this year even, it’s working fine. So I guess there’s just absolutely no way I can escape my fate at the very fortress of Satan himself.
On that cloudy-rainy-sunny-overcast-Mother-Nature-on-PMS day, the Space Shuttle did look like the metaphor:
No Photoshopping necessary. It’s a metal dragon, a twisted railgun, and the set of Aerosmith’s “I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing,” all rolled into one contraption.
The Space Shuttle ride lasts for the better part of 45 seconds. I can think of a lot of 45-second-long things that I’d rather do than ride this rollercoaster:
- Wait for an elevator at Shaw Boulevard station.
- Ride an escalator.
- Smoke a Virginia Slim or a Capri (I’m sorry, I just had to put that in).
When it was our turn to ride the rollercoaster, the attendants carefully locked in these safety bars just so that we won’t fall off the infernal machine and die. They’re not discounting things like heart attacks and hypertension: after all, the first-aid station is just a short walk away from the exit… unless, of course, the ride stops halfway upside-down the loop and you have to be rescued by the fire department… for three hours as blood rushes to your head.
So how did I find the ride? I had fun, but…
I was fucking scared out of my wits.
Anyway, lemme introduce you to the best writers in Ortigas Center right now:
From left: Meia, Caloy, myself, Elaine, Chemae, Aila, Eldar the Wizard, Jie, Paul, Marlon, Rian, Dandy, Marvin
Good-looking bunch, eh? And no, Eldar the Wizard is our officemate.