Cedar Point

Some people would say that everyone has an irrational fear. But I am pretty sure that all of my fears are perfectly rational. Take geese, for instance. If I give geese a wide berth, it is because they are wildly unpredictable and prone to attacking people. I am certain that this is a fact. Or earthquakes. I have been in many earthquakes, and I grew up in California and saw some pretty severe earthquake damage firsthand. That is a completely rational fear. And maybe even more justified than my fear of geese.

I have also always been afraid of heights. Some might call this an irrational fear, but I would disagree. There is something very rational at the base of it: If you fall from a very great height, you will probably die, and if you do not die it will most certainly be incredibly painful, and whether or not it ends in death, the fall will include several dreadful seconds of plummeting anticipation. I think I am quite justified in fearing that.

I have a long history of trying to overcome, or at least face, this fear, and I feel like I have made significant progress. Growing up in Southern California, the Land of Many Theme Parks, gave me plenty of opportunities to face down my fear. But it always took awhile. I have an even longer history of sitting out while everyone else braved the tallest, steepest, fastest roller coasters. One of my greatest accomplishments was maybe ten years ago when I finally rode the Viper at Six Flags Magic Mountain, a red beast that I had refused to ride for years, despite all the prompting of my mom and brothers and even, eventually, my little sister.

When I conquered Viper, I conquered Magic Mountain. So when my friend Chalsea and I discussed a trip to Cedar Point amusement park in Sandusky, Ohio a couple months ago, it seemed like a great idea to me. About a week ago, though, in anticipation of the upcoming trip, I actually looked Cedar Point up online. It turns out that Cedar Point rivals Magic Mountain as the roller coaster capital of the world, and that its coasters are, as a rule, taller, steeper, and faster than anything I ever rode in California. This past Sunday I got the gruesome details. Viper drops you 171 feet, and reaches a maximum speed of 70 miles per hour. At Cedar Point, the Maverick seems much tamer, still at 70 miles per hour but with a drop of 100 feet…except that drop is at a 95 degree angle (how is it even possible to drop even steeper than straight down?). Then there’s the Magnum, at 205 feet and 72 miles per hour. Or the Millenium Force at 310 feet and 93 miles per hour. Or the Top Thrill Dragster at 420 feet and 120 miles per hour.

I’m not going to lie. Cedar Point didn’t sound like such a good idea when I began to think about it realistically.

The trip was on Tuesday, and as long as I didn’t think too hard about it I managed to stay excited. We met at 8 in the morning for the 2 hour drive, and had enough people to take three cars. I’d been a little worried about the weather, which was overcast and drizzly, with thunderstorms predicted throughout the day, but than a couple weather shut-downs (none of which lasted very long) the rain didn’t get in the way at all, and in fact probably decreased the wait time in the lines. I don’t think we ever had to wait more than 30 or 40 minutes, and we practically walked on to several of the roller coasters.

And I am proud to say that I rode everything. I don’t know that I have ever faced down so many height-related fears in one day - usually I've only had to face one at a time, but at Cedar Point it was one ride after the other. It was actually a lot of fun, most of the time. I feel like I had a pretty good attitude, and was willing to push myself a bit.

But I also spent some significant time in a state of sheer terror that I tried very hard not to show. My friend Jason assured me that no one has ever died at Cedar Point, but he could not cite a source and therefore I did not believe him. And on the trip down to Sandusky, one of my car passengers, Tiffany, started to tell us about a girl who got her hair caught and her scalp ripped off, and I told her to stop right there because I didn't want to hear or imagine it. My own imagination is detailed enough without being fed by reality. The minute I imagine being near the top of the first ascent of a roller coaster and somehow unlocking from the track, my mind will not stop until the train cars are in a twisted heap of smoking metal 200 feet below. (I do the same thing on airplanes - I am no longer afraid of flying, really, but I have to try really hard not to imagine what it must feel like to drop thousands of feet to the ground in a nose dive.)

I felt a little out of place in my fears. Most everyone had been to Cedar Point at one point or another, and no one seemed to even balk at going higher and steeper and faster. Chalsea was the organizer of the whole adventure, and has been taking trips to Cedar Point practically her whole life. Brian is a Michigan newbie, but spent some time in Ohio the last few summers and anyone who knows him can probably imagine the energy and enthusiasm that infused his entire day. Sara I am pretty sure is not fazed by anything, and spent a good part of the day trying to convince me that, somewhere deep down inside, I really, really want to go skydiving. Perhaps that place exists deep down inside myself, but I am pretty sure it is so deep I will never uncover it. And then Jason, an Ohio native who practically grew up at Cedar Point, found out about my fear a few days before the trip, and was probably the reason I made it through the day. Honestly, if it weren’t for him, I very likely would have backed out of several of the rides entirely…and missed out on some of my favorite experiences in the park.

Except for the Power Tower. That was not fun before, during, or after. What I hate most about the tallest coasters is the anticipation, and then the initial drop. And the Power Tower is all anticipation and drop, and mostly anticipation. You sit down and then, with your feet dangling into space, you are slowly dragged up 240 feet, suspended for an indefinite period of time, and then released in what feels like a freefall. I think this just might have been the scariest experience of my entire life. My hands were shaking when I got off. I don’t regret doing it in the least (it’s all about facing fears, right?). But after doing it once, I saw no reason to do it again, for a very, very long time. I count myself lucky that I didn’t die of a heart attack before the ride was over.

The Millennium Force was almost as scary at the outset, maybe because it was later in the day and my fear-facing muscles were nearly spent by that point. My hands were shaking after that one too, but the ride itself was actually a lot of fun once I got past the initial climb - in fact, I even did it again later in the day and felt...not no fear, but significantly less.

All in all, I had a great time, and was kind of impressed with just how much I actually did. Plus, nobody died, or even threw up (although I think Juan came close). It was a long, exhausting day, but a lot of fun, and I'm glad we went.

A few photos, courtesy of Brian, who actually used his camera:

First ride of the day.

Group picture.

In the shadow of Millennium Force (the second scariest ride of the day).

Brian gets the Burger King employees to sing Happy Birthday to Jake.