I clenched my teeth so tightly as if I could turn back time to reconsider the decision I made five minutes earlier. That decision being, to get on a roller coaster where made heart attack inducing dips are just part of the “fun”. So in between periods where my mind was not just three words “I WANT OUT”, I reprimanded myself silently, “This is exactly why I don’t do roller coasters”
I have not been on one since ten. It was in Genting Highlands and from my hotel, that “Cyclone” ride seemed so harmless, and fun even. Extremely pumped and excited, I headed giddily, happily, straight for that ride the first thing getting into the theme park. Ten minutes later, I was brought back down to earth, heart left somewhere in the air, and tears streaming down my child face. That was not fun, that was torture.
To this day, roller coaster ride is just plain torture for me. Period.
That said, I had fun with the company. And a huge ass turkey leg that I later found had more than a 1000 calories. In one harmless looking leg? Damn girl.