The Gemini

In the spring of my 8th grade year, my class took a trip to Cedar Point to celebrate the completion of junior high school. Packed into two school buses we made the 3 hour trip to Sandusky, Ohio to spend the day waiting in countless lines to experience 8-10 seconds worth of pure adrenaline fueled awesomeness. It was 1988, I recall my outfit that day with the kind of pride that only a teenage girl of the late 80's can appreciate- White Esprit T-shirt paired with white Jams shorts and white lace less Keds tennis shoes and topped off with the proverbial Spring break acquired pale pink chipped shell necklace (you know the one...) and Swatch watch. I was unstoppable. The hair was permed and the bangs were large and stiff with Aqua Net hairspray. The "big ride" at Cedar Point at that time was called the Gemini. For weeks the talk at school had centered around whether or not one was going to ride the Gemini. The name itself invoked fear and uncertainty in me. This was my first trip to Cedar Point and having only been to Disney World my experience with hardcore amusement park rides was lacking compared to many of my peers who no longer questioned whether or not they would ride it, but rather, how many times. As we poured out of the buses and through the gates, it was without discussion where we would go first. Up until this point, I was full of false pride and bravado that I would probably ride the Gemini "maybe 3 or 4 times." As we made our way through the park, passing the other "smaller" rollercoasters, fear started to encroach. By the time we got into line for the Gemini I was having my own full blown anxiety attack. This of course was not communicated to those around me and I did my best to appear fearless. As the line crept closer, I stared down at the amusement park map that I held and made awkward suggestions like, "maybe we should ride the Corkscrew first and save the Gemini for last," hoping to delay the inevitable. Now if you have ever been to an amusement park you know that once you get fairly close to your turn you enter a covered maze like structure. The way I see it, this serves a couple of purposes the most obvious being that the maze controls the crowd and the cover protects people from the elements but you can't tell me that funneling people into a maze isn't also engineered to prevent people from quietly changing their mind and silently heading off for the Merry-Go-Round or a cotton candy with noone around them the wiser. The covered maze essentially ensures ridership. The more cautious, second-guessing, apprehensive type individual has to basically decide at this point which is more painful, enduring the horrors of the ride or the public humiliation of having to turn and shamefully walk past each person(sometimes 1-200 people)with the universal acknowledgment that they are a big crybaby and want their mommy. For those of us who are or were, in this case, more inclined to confront certain death than look foolish to others enter the "covered" aspect of this portion of the line. The overhead coverage while creating a pleasant relief from the sun also limits your view of the majority of the ride and something happens when you can no longer see the top of the ride, your mind forgets how high in the air the top of that first hill actually is. I am sure Amusement Park designers use this tactic to dampen the fear of those in line and lull them into a false sense of safety. And it works because once I could no longer see the top of the rollercoaster my fear started to subside and I started to actually think I was going to get on that ride so much so that I did. What happened once the metal harness came down over my chest and the car lurched forward is something I will never forget. It was the sudden realization that there was no going back. The cars started click click clicking up that first dreaded hill and all my concerns of maintaining composure suddenly vanished and I yelled "I want to get off! Seriously, let me off!!" But I couldn't, I had already agreed to the experience. With the crest of the hill in sight, I said a silent prayer, looked out over Lake Erie and at that moment, without any degree of control, decided to enjoy the ride. Wooosh, down we went and while I only peeked once through closed eyes it was exhilerating. I recall the sensation of my hair moving as one intact unit as the wind rushed at me, at times lifting my bangs right off my forehead only to place them down again as I went up and down each subsequent hill. I rode the Gemini twice that day and a number of other rides, but none as memorable as that first trip on the Gemini.

Ahh yes, it all makes sense. The fear and the feeling that there is no turning back now is very present for me. So, I guess I need to sit down, put my harness on, and enjoy the ride a little more.

It should also be said that I learned the limitation of Aqua Net that day. Aqua Net Strong Hold is a force to be wreckoned with, however, it was no match for the torrent of wind I experienced over the 8 hour period of that day. I feel not just a little sad to think of what my thirteen year old self must have looked like as I stepped back onto that school bus at the end of the day, exhausted, with probably only a half a dozen pieces of hair still struggling to comply with that morning's demanding instructions while the rest lay flattened and defeated across my head.