One Man's Ceiling

Sherman Alexie tweets:

Fuck ferris wheels, roller coasters & free-fall drop machines.

Yeah, what Mr. Alexie said!

Just in case, on that very odd, off chance I’ve not popped off about this already -- I currently hate, have always hated and am certain that I'll never find carnival rides anything other than wholly repugnant.

Perché? Warum? Pourquoi? Why?
What in Bast’s name makes me such an all fired, bloody wet blanket?

Eh, I was a fearful, over serious kid. Still am I suppose. Except for the ‘kid’ bit, that is.

From Annenberg Lerner/ Amusement Park Physics:


You've bought your ticket and boarded the roller coaster. Now you're barreling down the track at 60 miles per hour, taking hairpin turns and completing death-defying loops. Your heart is in your throat and your stomach is somewhere near your shoes. The only thing separating you from total disaster is a safety harness...but are you really in danger?
The designers of the roller coaster carefully crafted this thrilling ride to be just that, but you're actually in less danger than you think. You face a greater threat of injury playing sports or riding a bike than you do on a park ride. Amusement park rides use physics laws to simulate danger, while the rides themselves are typically very safe.

From the International Association of Amusement Parks and Attractions (IAAPA) site:

* Modern-day ride designers employ a steady stream of advances to create new, unique, and safe amusement rides and attractions.
* Amusement ride manufacturers applied the industry's biodynamic knowledge (collected over years) as it relates to g-forces to the design and construction of rides to ensure a safe experience.
* While technological gains have led to the development of bigger and faster rides, overall g-force levels have generally remained the same because riders’ tolerance levels have not changed.

Look, I get it. The rides are designed to instill fear and thrills. You know, a safe flirtation with the scary trauma shit without actual catastrophe.

Fine. For someone else. Not me.

And then there's what I see as the adult version of disaster flirtation.

Back in college, a drawing teacher took us on a field trip to a bit of woods with some wee cliffs for an afternoon of rock climbing and sketching. The idea was that we’d scale the bluff, get to the meadow above and draw.

Cute concept. Scared the fuck outta me but I did it. Why? I was afraid of my classmates' potential derision.

The entire time, as I was frantically digging for handholds, I was certain that a very painful fall (with much gushing of the old AB positive and a few pulverized bones) was imminent.

Yeah, that was the one and only time I tried that. And, by the by, when we got to that meadow? Did we whip out our sketchbooks and get all creative? Nope, the doobies came out while we studied the awesome blades of grass, butterflies and how the breeze felt as it riffled through the hair on our arms. My fav part of our adventure of course.

Jen has a batch of very close pals who regularly climb. Hells Bells, they're the queens and kings of their climbing gyms -- they live for this shit. At the same time that I truly think they’re a bit nuts, I envy their fearlessness.

Mind you, I suppose I’ve done a few daredevil-ish things in my time, what with my carnie years, traveling alone, without a guidebook, in countries where I didn’t know the language (OK, that was just plain harebrained), plunging into brain surgery at 23 years of age.

Dunno. None of that seemed so brave at the time. It all felt logical.

One person's wild thrill is another's disastrous mayhem.
One Man's Ceiling is Another Man's Floor -- Paul Simon