The Legend of the Zip Line

There are some that have a genuine fear of the outdoors. Others, it seems, cannot live without it. I, however, have grown accustomed to life in the city for a variety of reasons, only one of which I will share today.

Let me say at the onset that I am not opposed to the outdoors. It is just that I have been scarred beyond recovery and need to take it slowly...

Once upon a time...who uses this phrase anymore? I would've used something more appropriate, but couldn't think of a better intro. Once upon a time I went to church camp. As a general rule I went every year, but there were times of hardship during which my family could not afford to pay for it. During this particular incident I found myself thoroughly enjoying life as a teenager, expecting that camp would last forever and I would never have to return home only to attend another year of school.

We had already been participating in outdoor activities which included several team-building exercises. For those of you that have attended camp at some point in your life you know what I'm talking about. Everyone has to come together as a team in order to break down the barriers between us and become friends - that kind of stuff.

After the team-building exercises we were introduced to the zip line. Now - a zip line is a cable that has been strung from two points (generally trees) that allows the person to quickly "zip" or move through the air from the highest point to the other. This being the case, the zip line has to be set up in the air (definitely a few feet off of the ground) in order to accomplish the trick.

To start, I have a fear of heights. Some would call this acrophobia, but I just call it losing my stomach at the thought of falling from a height of more than 1 foot. So, to even look up at the zip line made my blood start to quiver. Actually...just thinking about the tall tree that would eventually spell my doom is starting to make my stomach turn.

Climbing to the top seemed like an eternity. It was a rope ladder that wouldn't stay still if my life depended on it. Who in their right mind would want to climb a waving tendril of death?? Once I got to the top, I was strapped in and given a couple of directions. Face forward, keep your feet in front of you, don't turn your back to the tree, when you get to the end, Scott will catch you. My guide also pointed out that there was a wooden block set in place to slow my momentum at the point of impact.

As we counted down from whatever arbitrary number seemed to please my guide at the time, I realized that my heart was racing. GO! And I jumped. And I lost my stomach. And I was pretty sure that if I hadn't gone to the bathroom beforehand, that I would've at that moment in time. Down I went. Because people were watching me, I thought I'd try to erase the fear that had left me clinging to the rope. Think good thoughts. Focus on the target.

You know, it's not as bad as one might thing. You just have to get used to the sensation of losing all control of your life and allowing nature to take its course. HA. Twisting...I'm twisting. What do I do? Just enjoy the ride. Wait - where's the tree? Oh - it's a ways off. Plus, there's the wooden block to slow my roll. Oh, and there's Scott on the platform, waiting to catch me.

Wooden block. OK - brace for impact. Contact with wooden block. Still sailing through. At this point in time everything around me slowed down to an eternity. It was like I could see the world around me in HD slow motion. Apparently the wooden block hadn't done the job, because I was still flying at the speed of...say a hawk intent on catching its prey. Oh wait, Scott can catch me.

Just passed Scott. Apparently I was going to fast for him to catch the rope and I slid right past. However, I could still see the shock on his face as I was looking at him rather than at my final resting place. The last thought that went through my mind before impact was, 'Don't forget to keep your feet in front of you.' I quickly tried to turn so that my back wasn't facing the tree that I was about to hit. I had about 2 feet to complete the twist.

Too late. My back was now coming in contact with the tree. More specifically, my back collided with a stub of a branch that had been cut off. Why someone would leave a foot left on the branch is beyond me, since that seemed to be the thing that had induced pain of the acutest kind. Not only had I met the tree with an incredible impact, but also all of my energy and momentum had been expended on that one branch. If you know anything about physics, you will understand the extent to which this would cause pain.

I slowly started moving back toward Scott who was waiting to catch me on the platform. He asked if I was OK, but I could only respond with, 'get me down, because I can't breathe.' He quickly unstrapped me from the zip line and laid me on the platform. At this point I felt as if a rib had been broken. At bare minimum I felt as if my heart had been punctured...OK, not exactly since it was the right side of my back, but close enough.

I remember people running to get the camp nurse. All of the sudden I see Phil running at breakneck speed to the platform. He doesn't even run like that for softball, so I knew that something was up. Once we found out that my skin hadn't even been punctured, I felt as if all of that pain was for nothing. No one would believe I was hurt if there was no blood. That's whack!

Unfortunately I had to spend the rest of the day (until dinner) under observation, because I couldn't bear the shame of being out in public. Who runs into a tree? Good grief, at the very least I could've put my feet out to stop my momentum, but NO - I had to do things the hard way.

The zip line has thus become a legend in my own mind. If not for that incident, I might not be as afraid of outdoor obstacle courses. But alas, I am what I am. For better or worse...probably the latter, not the former. I hope that you can draw insight from this story. When going on a zip line, please remember to look where you're going, and not where you've been...

Space Mountain

Yes - it is one of my favorite rides at Disneyland. That not withstanding, I now have a complex about the ride, due to a series of complications that my family and I faced one year while enjoying our time at the happiest place on earth. The words that follow are now as accurate a description as I can portray from the agony that arose from Space Mountain: The Ride of Shame. Consequently, this also happens to be the second Disneyland story to complicate my life...which makes me start to wonder...

It was a day to start off the summer season. My family and I were in Anaheim for my sister's graduation and decided that at least one day during our trip should be dedicated to the Disneyland monument. Since Space Mountain is one of our favorite rides, it was definitely in the queue to visit - and by visit, I mean about 3-4 times (obviously in between fits of stuffing our faces with the most glorious food available). 

Standing in line during our first visit got us to thinking about life, love, and the pursuit of happiness. While enjoying our time in line, we decided to see if we could shake the walkway that crosses over the actual roller coasters. We thought it hilarious that when all of us jumped at the same time, we were able to shake the walkway. At the same time, we were also a little surprised and scared that we were able to shake the walkway.

There were 12 of us for the first trip, so we took up a full roller coaster. As an aside, I think that being able to fill your own coaster is awesome, because then others don't have to deal with the annoyance of your incredibly awkward personal jokes and obnoxious laughter. We were already screaming at the top of our lungs when we pulled up the first 10 feet to the control tower. We waited, and waited, and waited, but were not allowed to proceed. Instead of going to the right, we were steered to the left.

At this point, I didn't know that there was a problem. I actually thought we were going through a secret tunnel - stupid, I know, but my imagination is amazingly vivid. Secondary thoughts racing through our heads were ones of guilt...wondering if we were in trouble for causing so much ruckus on the walkway. The attendant told us that the coaster's speakers were broken and that we would have to go on the next one. We insisted that they were working just fine, since we could hear them right next to our ears, but they wouldn't listen to 'reason'. They split us up and we took two different carts...totally not the same experience.

Not wishing to have a ruined experience, we went back later on that night. By the time we actually got to the coasters it was nearing 8:30-9pm. Hungry and extremely excited we, once again, boarded a coaster. Our family completed a full roster of 12, but there were 1 or 2 replacements from the previous trip. We pulled up to the control tower and waited. And waited. After about 2 minutes (an eternity in roller coaster time), we were guided to the left, only this time we went through the curtains that were blocking our path before. We were taken to a back room where we waited to see what the attendant had to say.

He politely asked us to get out of the cart, because it was broken and they needed to put us into another one. We said that this had already happened earlier in the day and that we didn't believe that the cart was actually broken. At this, the attendant looked at us with a start and asked what had happened. After we conveyed the short version of the story, he looked down with a sheepish grin and a slightly embarrassed look in order to regain his momentary loss of composure. When he looked up he said, "There's no easy way to say this. The coaster is too heavy. There is a maximum weight limit in order for the coaster to function properly, and you have exceeded it."

At this, the majority of us were caught with fits of laughter, so much to the point that the attendant didn't know what to do. He looked up at us with surprise, since he was unsure of how to react, and when we told him that this was the funniest thing that had happened all day (besides, of course, the Eel Man story, which was related to you in a previous blog), he felt comfortable enough to lose his embarrassment and join in on the laugh.

After that, there was no stopping us from having fun. He split us up - 6 of us took up a coaster of our own, while the other six were with three kids, not older than 12. As we went through the ride, which was one of my most thrilling experiences through Space Mountain, we found ourselves screaming at the top of our lungs. Upon exiting the ride, we were immediately funneled through to the Spaceport cafeteria. Seeing as how we had just impressed the amazingly awesome attendant with our ability to stop a coaster twice in one day, we headed straight to the cafeteria for our 9pm meal.

I never stop remembering or retelling this story every time that I ride on Space Mountain. It seems cruel that I would have to suffer through two Disneyland experiences in one trip (the second being the Eel Man as previously stated), but you hardly get a story better than this to tell your grandchildren. I hope this has brought joy to your day.