The Coaster Capital -- by Natalie D. Richards

THE COASTER CAPITAL
by Natalie D. Richards

I'm from Ohio, also known as the land of Cedar Point.  Cedar Point is no joke in the coaster community.  I mean, I don’t mean to brag, but it’s kind of a legend.  There are seventeen roller coasters in that park.  That’s right.  SEVENTEEN back-breaking, stomach churning, head spinning contraptions waiting to take you for the ride of your life.

Most of these are not your friendly neighborhood coasters either, folks.  These coasters are meant to turn you into a sniveling little baby.  They’ll put hair on your chest and fire in your veins and oh, I don’t know, insert your personal favorite turn of phrase that basically makes you think of a horror movie turned into a mountain of steel rails and scaffolding.  Because that’s what Cedar Point is about.  Scaring you half to death and charging you dearly to do it.

 

 

So, being a born-and-raised Buckeye girl, know how I feel about all those twisting towering masses of steel and waiting in long lines in ninety-plus degree heat so that my I can drop over a hill that will lodge my stomach in my heels and blow my eyelids off?

I’ll pass, thanks.

Oh, stop with the judgey eyes.  I tried, I really did.  I forced myself onto a few of the baby coasters like Iron Dragon and the Corkscrew and had a few laughs and bruises for the effort.  But since I can barely look at a merry go round without my stomach rolling over, I knew I’d never be a TRUE coaster girl.

Still, ride lover or not, I’ve spent a few long, sticky days at Cedar Point over the years, smelling cotton candy and caramel apples and watching riders laugh and hoot and, yes, barf their way out of the exit terminals.  Even as a girl who will never voluntarily strap herself into one of those sticky molded seats again, I still find a bit of charm to the amusement park experience.

So, ride on coaster lovers.  And for the rest of you?  Keep an eye out for me.  I'm probably holding someone's purse, too.