Personal Essays

They look exciting from a distance, all whirling color and shiny metal. You can hear the high-pitched screaming, and it sounds fun. Well, mostly fun. You'd have to be a wimp not to ride though, right?

Turns out, I am a wimp.

I threw up once after getting off a fair ride, and now I won't get on them. Up close -- as in, as the line gets shorter and your turn gets sooner -- is now enough to make me queasy. I am not meant to tumble end over end in an uncertain metal contraption, or spin in fast circles while swooping up and down. My stomach can't take it.

I continue to admire them from afar, and listen for the glee and terror.