There we were at a restaurant enjoying our annual XMAS get together. We had been talking about doing exciting things; like skydiving, bungee cord jumping, hang glider flying, etc. who would do what and who wouldn’t do what when I made the mistake of opening my mouth. I had just been thumbing through a book on roller coasters. The author had ridden them all – all around the world - and to my surprise some were in Las Vegas and one – the Stratosphere -was amongst the scariest he had ever ridden. Why don’t we put our money where our mouth was and just do it? Would you do it? Sure I said, my old cockiness flooding back in.
I’d liked roller coasters pre-ME/CFS but since then I’d had a lot of trouble with heights; going over bridges, for instance, bothered me,– it seemed like my depth perception was off – particularly when I was tired it seemed I couldn’t take in a lot of data. In fact when I really tired taking in vistas of any kind seemed almost painful. It had been awhile since anything like that had happened though and all that was forgotten when I blurted out "I know something kind of scary we could in Las Vegas and we could do it tonight"
What was I thinking? An hour I later we were headed towards the Stratosphere – a slim needle rising high in the sky above the enormous casinos with a restaurant at the top and a roller coaster that twirled it – 1000 feet above the ground. My brother, Chad, had gone on it once before but he was not in the kind of condition at the time to remember much. As we drove towards it he pointed it out.’ Look at how tall that building is’ he said but it left me unperturbed. Piece of cake I thought. What’s so hard about getting into a car and rolling around the edge of a building? How bad could that be?
Actually that roller coaster was gone – replaced by three others – one that went straight up, one in which you buckled into a little chair- not a car, or container but a chair - and were twirled over the city, and one in which you were thrust up and down at the city below like some demented battering ram.
As soon as I got up to the observation deck, however, I realized it didn’t really matter which one we chose – I was toast any which way. The battle was over the minute I stepped out of the elevator. Within seconds I was weak at the knees, my heart began pounding and my mouth went dry. Any energy I had evaporated immediately upon observing the lights of the city far, far, below us. Gingerly I made my way near the handrail. Were those the Casino’s way down there? Was that possible? Somewhere off in the distance as I heard people saying "Isn’t this beautiful"! "Wow, this is great"! it felt like something vital in me beginning to detach itself and float off into the void and I wasn’t sure it was going to return.
I stepped back and gathered my wits. I told myself I was going to go through with this. Yes just walking on the enclosed deck seemed to present a real psychic danger but I was still determined to do this. I knew I had to be quick. Theoretically I knew that acclimatizing myself the height should work but feeling like I only had a few minutes of willpower left – I decided to just do it. Luckily my family had decided the same.
We went up to do the ride which propelled people at great speed a hundred or so feet up into the night sky. This was the best choice - one a woman on the way up had assured us that it was ‘a piece of cake’, that the really scare ride was being twirled over 900 feet of nothingness in the middle of the night. The wind was swirling a bit; as usual the protective fence around seemed all too low. Out in fresh air the city seemed more immediate and daunting than ever.
But the most astonishing thing was the ride itself; it wasn’t a car that one sat it – it consisted of chairs you sat in and then were thrust, naked to the elements, up into the night.
I tottered over to one, any banter long since gone and sat facing the city. Just taking this step far exceeded the fear factor of any ride I’d ever taken. It was literally impossible to take it in. I blinked and tried. It was just too much. Would I be a babbling idiot by the time this was over?
I realized I really had only one option; if I couldn’t handle the city at ‘ground level’ how was I going to take it while being propelled at high speed into outer space? The ride bucked and started, I grabbed the handrails as hard as I could, and closed my eyes as tightly as I could and told myself. "Do not open your eyes!" As we hit the top I heard a deep, deep almost primeval groan from my brother Chad, then we dropped down, went up again, at which point I heard my sister say "Isn’t this nice!", and then down and up and finally down again and stopped, at which point I opened my eyes. Success! Everyone was ecstatic at the experience – I was overjoyed to have simply survived. .
I clamored out past my niece – who had understandably burst into tears at the sight of her mother ascending into the heavens – and into the building. Ten minutes later I was rewarded with a picture of all four of us, my sister, brother, myself and nephew – everyone agog at the glory - except for me – teeth clenched, hunkered down, eyes shut.
No, I’m not the man I used to be.
September 2007