Thrill Me by Alan Bunker

As elementary school students, we often attended the annual Catholic School Day at Cleveland's Euclid Beach Amusement Park with the assurance of discounted ride tickets. Getting to the park was a challenge since it was held during a spring weekday when most parents were unable to get away from work or household duties. Fortunately for me and my siblings, a neighbor was off work that day and bravely took me, my siblings and her three kids to the event.

My family had always enjoyed Euclid Beach on summer Sundays and I was thoroughly thrilled with the kiddy rides, including the diesel train, the Arcade games and, of course, the famously delicious popcorn balls, taffy, and frozen vanilla custard. Those were leisurely afternoons with no pressure to attempt the big rides. The day's fearful part occurred as I shielded my eyes while walking with my family past the large and creepy manikin, "Laughing Sal", and endured her blaring, horrific, cackling laughter accentuated by her heaving, mechanical gyrations -- beckoning the brave to enter the Fun House. (What fun was it to be terrified by her and most rides at an amusement park?)

But here I was, a young elementary school kid, at an amusement park and without my assuring parents. My brother and sister were no comfort that day as they dashed off with others to pursue their thrills. After wandering around for a while, I was approached by our neighbor's high school-age son. Maybe at his mother's exhorting, he asked if he could take me on rides. (I suspected that many of his classmates did not attend that day so taking me along might have eased his boredom.)

With his encouragement, I agreed to try some 'big boy' rides. Reluctantly, I climbed into a two-seater made to resemble a giant steel butterfly suspended from cables. Within moments we were soaring in a wide circle with several other 'butterflies' above the ride watchers and spring tree foliage. The young man expertly turned the ride's rudder to widen our arc -- then forcefully pushed the rudder in the opposite direction, causing us to abruptly stall before being snapped like a cracked whip into rapid acceleration. The teenager laughed fiendishly as I cowered in my seat. When it ended, I asked hopefully if we were finished for the day. Not seeing tears or wet pants on me, the boy hurried us to my next rendezvous with anxiety. Inspired by masochists, the rides attempted to defy Isaac Newton's laws. Witnessed by me during previous visits, I vowed never to ride them. (The diesel train's horn and its easy track through a tunnel were enough excitement.)  The Flying Turns sent us in a twisting descent within a wooden chute like a bobsled. On the ensuing ride, as our 'boat' reached the brink before its deadly drop Over-The-Falls, I had wished that my parents had not sent me to a Catholic school. This experience was followed by rides with high blood-pressure names such as Racing Coaster, Dodgem and Thriller (Michael Jackson would have loved that one!). Having survived the day while earning my belated graduation from kiddy rides, I boasted of my accomplishment to my parents at dinner that evening.

Not too many years later, I found myself again at Euclid Beach Park on a 'big boy' ride, but with my girlfriend, eager to impress her with my courage and to hold her tightly…for quite a different thrill.