(no subject)

[felicula]

mechanchaosand I went to Six Flags over Darien Lake this past weekend.

I haven't always loved roller coasters. When I was small, I was scared enough to avoid them entirely. That all changed the summer before my junior year of high school. I attended the Youth Scholars Sound Recording program at Lebanon Vally College in Pennsylvania. Part of the week included a trip to Hershey Park. As it turned out, the girls I was hanging around with were locals who knew all the best rides and what order to get on them. I ended up in a line for a looping coaster and was like, "No no no no no". They insisted though, and I absolutely loved it. The rest of the day I'd be quaking in line only to love the rides themselves.

I've always been an adrenaline junkie. I get so hyped up in different ways. I get a rush from finding my way through an unfamiliar part of town, from taking walks in scary places after dark, from amusement park rides, and from going to concerts, among other things. I love feeling my heart pound and feeling that much more alive!

This time was... different. I used to loathe that feeling of my stomach lurching during roller coaster hills as much as I loved it. Like an orgasm's tensing before letting go, my fear would build as I waited in line, the anticipation thrumming through my system until the release of the first drop sustained throughout the ride. This time, none of the coasters drummed up that fear. Even the tallest hill in the park didn't send my stomach flying into my throat.

It wasn't bad. It just wasn't... thrilling. I was as relaxed on every coaster as I'd be in a pleasant country drive. I still enjoyed the sensations, I still waited patiently for the delicacy that is the front seat. There was no adrenaline though. The rides that photographed us mid-turn showed both of us placid and relaxed.

I wonder if we've just gone to the same park too many times. Maybe finding a place with rides that I'm not familiar with, newer, bigger, more intimidating... I don't know. Thing is, I'm familiar enough with the feelings that certain motions induce in me. I worry that my stomachs activities on any new and unfamiliar contraption will be just as normal to me as any of the rides I've been on thus far.

Am I just more detatched? Am I jaded? Is it like a drug where I've developed a tolerance and just need to find a high enough "dose" to get a kick out of it? I doubt I'll stop going on roller coasters. I just miss the intensity and the adrenaline.

After having such a relatively unstimulating time at Darien Lake, I was surprised when I was settling down to bed. I still had that residual sense of being twisted, turned, flipped, and dropped. It's like my peripheral nervous system got more out of it than my central nervous system did.

By contrast, Friday night I decided to go on a long walk after the busses had stopped running to pick up a new pair of sandles. The night fell as I navigated my way through routes I'd only ever been in a car for and some that I'd never been through at all. My emotions ran the gamut from wonder and curiosity to nervousness and outright fear, then elation at reaching my destination without having to double back or running into any unsavory characters. Who knew that I'd get more adrenaline out of a five mile walk than I would from twelve hours at an amusement park!