When I was about 9 or 10 years old, my sister convinced me...me, child who did not like to fly, got sick on Star Tours, did not do roller coasters in general...that it would be a really good idea for me to ride on Space Mountain with her.
Bless her. My sister was always full of these sorts of ideas, and usually I resisted, but some part of my little "I wanna be like my big sister" self thought I would be brave and try it.
Even though I was scared out of my wits. I've always looked up to my sister. Quite frankly, it's not until recent years that we've viewed each other on an even keel. She's seven years older than I am, and when I was little, I wanted to do everything that she did.
Except when she climbed the really tall tree in the yard all the way to the top branches.
That I wasn't down for.
I digress.
She convinced me that I should try riding Space Mountain, and so I did. I remember it distinctly. She sat behind me, I was in front, and I was so little that I fit quite snugly into that rocket.
Now, snug as I may have been, that doesn't mean that I wasn't absolutely terrified.
And with good reason. It was horrifying! I think I screamed, I'm not sure. Most likely. I screamed on Tower of Terror when I rode that for the first time, and I actually enjoyed that, so it would stand to reason that I screamed on Space Mountain as well.
When I got off the ride, I was so queasy, my stomach was just churning.
I looked at my sister and said, "I think I just lost my stomach back there."
She raised an eyebrow and asked me if I wanted to go back and find it.
I said, NO!!!!
Fast forward 12 years later. I'm 22 years old and on my honeymoon. My husband is a daredevil, much like my sister, and I'm feeling pretty badly about making him ride these thrill rides by himself. So I get this notion into my head that I'm going to ride Space Mountain again.
How bad can it be, right?
Except that, let me tell you. I may not be the tallest woman on the face of the earth, but at 5'4", there's a pretty big difference between my full grown height and the height I was at ten years old.
As in as soon as we boarded our rocket ship to space, I noticed something. Something particularly disconcerting.
I wasn't ten anymore.
And even though I gave my husband the pleasure of sitting in the front, I couldn't escape one simple fact.
I didn't fit in the snug in the seat.
As a matter of fact, I stuck up right out of it, like every other adult that was getting ready to ride.
Oh. My. God.
I'm not ten anymore.
I'm not going to be able to scrunch myself down, snug and tight, I am out there, I am taller, oh...my...
and it takes off.
Well, for those of you who have ridden, you all know it's not that bad, but there's a vast difference between riding it when you feel all snug and secure and another when you're just sticking out there for all the world to see.
I'd like to tell you I enjoyed myself, but I didn't. Except for the fact that I felt a sense of accomplishment, I didn't enjoy one bit of that ride. I kept my eyes closed the whole time. The only way I've ever seen Space Mountain has been on the Wedway People Mover.
It's real pretty from that ride.
A little levity for your day.
The number one reason I am not a big fan of Space Mountain -- I can't bury myself down in the rocket and hide my head. LOL!
(I do ride ToT sometimes, but I do NOT like the first part. The drops are worth the yucky parts!)
