Riding With The King

As the curtain rings down on yet another summer full of frolic and fun, I find myself reflecting back on a summer long ago. We were all younger then, as custom would have it. We were more reckless, or at least a little less careful, not by custom but by choice. This was a time when there was a choice for admission to the amusement park in Denver called Elitch's. You could buy an unlimited ride pass, which seemed like the right choice if you were dedicated to the advertising suggestion that you should "come out and play, plan to spend the the day". Or you could buy individual coupons that had to be doled out in increments described by the thrill quotient of the ride. The easy conversion rate was to imagine that the longer the wait in line, the more tickets you would have to pony up to climb aboard once you reached the front of that line.
All of this is preface to the strategy my older brother and I worked out in those bygone days of yore. On any particular evening in late summer, I might get a call asking if I wanted to head down to Elitch's to "chug some nachos and do a little Twister". As I said, these were the salad days, back when bedtime was just prior to collapse. When we arrived, we would buy the unlimited ride ticket, then commence to do laps on the big coaster, with a few slammin' trips on the Tilt-A-Whirl to add spin to the sense of disorientation we were building. Before it got too late, we made a point to stop by the ticket booth to buy more individual ride coupons, discretely covering our unlimited ride passes as we did. We knew from experience that after closing time, our "unlimited" pass would be invalid, but the kind hearts and summer employees would be happy to let us take a few extra spins on Mister Twister to use up our extra tickets.
It was on one of these nights, weighed down by a gut full of the best of amusement park cuisine, that we were taking what would be one of our final rides of the night, but the thrill of being in the park after closing was that it almost guaranteed you any seat you wanted on the coaster. For us, there was no other seat but the front, and that is where I found myself, oh so many years ago, as the clank of the chain dragged us up to the top of the first hill, and a thunderstorm approached in the distance.
"Put your hands up," urged my brother.
I did as I was told.
"Close your eyes."
Why not?
As the car reached the apex of the hill and began its wicked descent, a flash of lightning came just a fraction of a second before a clap of thunder, and my brother grabbed my hands, holding them over my head. Eyes closed, unable to hold on to anything but my breath, we plunged into the darkness. When it was over, I was shaking. When I finally opened my eyes, I checked to be sure that we had more tickets. More fun.