Fun Article About The Beast

Thought this was a good read. How many of us had these feelings as young 'uns?

http://www.nytimes.com/2014/05/04/magazine/the-monster-of-kings-island.html

Mike, thanks for posting. Great article on a great ride.

^^Seconded

I enjoyed that a lot...

Beast was my first big coaster. I was about 12, and my sister was about 9. It was the 1980s, and my life was about to change forever. All I could think about and talk about weeks before my family's visit to Kings Island was The Beast. I was determined to ride it. This was way before the internet, so all I really knew about it was from what other people told me about it.

After entering the park gate that morning, My mom, aunt, uncle, sister, and I ran straight to the ride. We followed the Beast footprints painted on the walkway that led to the ride just for fun. I had the park map memorized and knew exactly where we were going, but for fun, we followed the painted Beast footprints on the walkway. The wait for the ride was about an hour.

As we waited, I felt a kind of fear overcome me. I was having second thoughts. I began to feel uncomfortable. I finally revealed to Mom that I wanted to turn back. She demanded, "You are going to ride this ride. It's all you have talked about for weeks. If you back out now, I will not allow you to ride anything else all day."

I whined and moped the rest of our wait, with my sister mocking me. "You're such a chicken, Bubbis. It's just a roller coaster, like the Big Dipper. Fraidy-cat!"

To add insult to injury, because of the odd number of our party, I had to ride with a stranger. Mom sat with Sis just behind me. My Aunt and Uncle rode together behind them, so that left me riding with a guy I didn't know. I now assume my riding partner for this ride was a big-time coaster enthusiast.

I had this feeling of dread until the moment the ride operators released the train from the station. When I felt the rolling of the metal wheels on the wooden track, I let all my fear go, and replaced it with excitement. Since there was no turning back, I decided that I was going to force myself to enjoy the ride.

For the first half of the ride, I felt bliss. It was the greatest experience of my twelve-year-old life. The ride kept getting faster and faster. I felt like the train was going to break apart right under me, I didn't mind if I was going to die because I was having so much fun.

After a fast approach to the second lift hill, I took the break in the forces to look back at my mom and sister. I wanted to shout out to them about how much fun I was having, but then I saw that they were not having as much fun as I was.

Sis was a shade of green that I had never seen on a person's face before, and Mom was holding Sis's tiny body from slouching. The expression on my sister's face was distressing. It's as if she were somewhat unconscious, and ready to throw up from terror. Mom was in a slight panic over the state of my sister's reluctance to hold on or ability to sit up on her own. Sis was still, frozen with fear.

Now I should have felt concern for them. I should have, but instead I laughed. I laughed really hard. I knew that when the ride was over, she would be okay, and the irony of how she teased me in line got to me. I won this sibling argument with her after all.

We reached the top of the second lift, and plummeted down the greatest length of track I have ever known. My screams, and the screams of all the other riders, echoed throughout the tunnels in the helix. The combination of the intensity, speed, and sounds made me giddy, and that giddiness lasted all day.

When the lap bars released, my sister stumbled down the ramp. My uncle and I decided to get back in line. My poor sister? She didn't ride anything else all day.

"Bubbis?"

My West Virginia to English Dictionary translates that to "bro".

When she was little, she called me Bubby and Travis. One day she said them both at the same time. The nick name stuck within my immediate family, and Mom still calls me that, and my nieces and nephews (my sister's children) call me that. If my dogs could talk, even they would call me that.

It looked like the Hells Angels had kidnapped Amish barn builders and forced them to erect a shrine of suicidal madness.

That's awesome. Oops. Nod to Louis CK, that's great!

From here on out it's Bubbis. Bubbis it is.