Nothing to Fear But Fear Itself . . . and Clowns on Roller Coasters

Any psychologist worth his salt will tell you that the only way to conquer your fears is to face them head-on.  While this seems like reasonably sound advice, and probably works well for the fear of hamsters or the fear of flannel,  I have to think that there are exceptions.  For example, what if you're afraid of being pummeled to death by former heavyweight champ Mike Tyson?  It's probably not a wonderful idea to walk up to Iron Mike and say, "Hey, Tyson, the Lollipop Guild called.  They want their voice back."  Sure, you'd be facing your fear, but you'd then be facing surgery.  At best.

When I was young, I was afraid of lots of things.  Some were relatively minor, like clowns and the flying monkeys from The Wizard of Oz.  Sure, they were terrifying, but it's not like Bozo was going to come knocking on my door.  I got over these phobias by the time I was about eight.  Well, that's not entirely true.  I watched Stephen King's It on cable a few months ago and it freaked me out all over again.

My fear of fire lasted quite a bit longer.  Like, permanently.  To this day, I've never struck a match or flicked a Bic.  If I have to light the fireplace, which is to say "if I can't find Theresa", I have to use one of those trigger-operated lighters that are about a foot long.  I'm not sure where this fear came from, but it's here to stay.  On the plus side, though, I'm never going to be a suspect in an arson case.  So there's that.

One fear that I did manage to take on and conquer was my fear of roller coasters.  When I was a kid, my parents would take me and my brothers to Dorney Park in eastern Pennsylvania.  I don't know if it still exists (I suppose I could Google it), but back in the 70's it was wonderful, even though their mascot was a creepy clown named Alfundo.  I loved almost everything about Dorney Park; the Skeeball games, bumper cars, miniature golf.  Everything except the gigantic wooden roller coaster which was called "The Child-Torturing Coaster of Death" or something like that.  Every year, my dad would try to bribe me into riding that thing, to no avail.  Promises of cotton candy and soft-serve ice cream didn't stand a chance against bone-chilling mortal fear.

It wasn't until I was about 11 that I finally rode my first roller coaster.  Space Mountain, Walt Disney World, 1976.  At that time, Space Mountain had only been in existence for one year, and many rumors swirled regarding its safety.  It was supposedly so fast that people were losing their glasses, false teeth, wallets, and bladders.  I wasn't exactly eager to put myself through that, hell, it had only been about a year since I'd gathered up the nerve to go on the Haunted Mansion.  But with some encouragement from my father, I agreed to give Space Mountain a try.


We stood in line for over an hour.  During this time, the dark recesses of my mind spewed out images of a roller coaster pushing Mach 2, whipping around the track flinging passengers to the Happiest Death on Earth.  Dad didn't help matters at all.  If you've ever been on Space Mountain, you know that there are all sorts of space objects projected in the darkness.  Comets, asteroids that look like giant chocolate chip cookies, meteors.  Well, my dad pointed to one of the stars zipping across the ceiling and said, "See that?  That's one of the cars!"  I could just feel the seven-dollar hot dog churning in my stomach.

We finally boarded the ride, and for about thirty seconds, I was petrified.  But then I started to enjoy it.  I enjoyed it a lot.  We got back in line and rode it again.  Just like that, I was hooked.

I rode my first "loop" coaster, "Lightning Loops" at Six Flags' Great Adventure, on my eighth grade class trip.  After that, I became somewhat of a roller coaster aficionado.  Magic Mountain's "X" is probably my favorite, but "California Screamin'" at Disney's California Adventure is a fantastic ride, too. 

But over the past couple years, things have started to change again.  Don't get me wrong, I still love riding roller coasters, but I have to pick and choose.  It seems that certain rides, particularly those that swing side to side like "Batman" at Magic Mountain make me want to do the ol' technicolor yawn.  Even the friggin' Ferris Wheel at California Adventure turned me a vague greenish color.

That just getting me getting older, though.  It's not fear.

Fear would be a roller coaster soaring through rings of fire, with Alfundo riding next to me.  And maybe a flying monkey or two working the controls.


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