Getting More Out of It For More Than 80 Years

Grandma: You know, when I was nineteen, Grandpa took me on a roller coaster.

Gil: Oh?

Grandma: Up, down, up, down. Oh, what a ride!

Gil: What a great story.

Grandma: I always wanted to go again. You know, it was just so interesting to me that a ride could make me so frightened, so scared, so sick, so excited, and so thrilled all together! Some didn't like it. They went on the merry-go-round. That just goes around. Nothing. I like the roller coaster. You get more out of it.

The above comes from another great comedy, Parenthood. It is a good lead in to remembering that on June 26, a famous roller coaster celebrated its 80th birthday. There was an article in the Washington Post last week that talked all about Coney Island and its most famous structure, one that will likely be the only one there soon. The Cyclone in Coney Island was declared a historic landmark in 1988, so it is protected. But the rest of Astroland is threatened by, what else?, development - housing and shopping.

I have a Cyclone story. When Mrs. Brave Astronaut and I were dating, we went to Coney Island for the day. At the attendant's suggestion, we removed our sunglasses and I put them into my jacket pocket. They were fine until a turn at the top of the coaster sent them careening off into the air, never to be seen again. For me it was OK, as my sunglasses were cheap street versions, but Mrs. Brave Astronaut lost her prescription sunglasses. Luckily, she had her regular glasses, which I then fetched for her, so she could see.

I like roller coasters. This was even a topic of conversation at the lunch table the other day. I declared it to be a good blog post topic. The conversation moved to people's first loop roller coaster. Mine was the Super Dooper Looper in Hershey Park, PA. I got the opportunity to ride on a trip with my parents from our home in New York to Chagrin Falls, OH.

Recently, another amusement park of my youth crossed my radar screen. While watching Music and Lyrics, Hugh Grant's character gets a "gig" at Adventureland, "the biggest small amusement park east of Rye Playland." My Adventureland story takes place in June of 1985. I went with three friends to the park for an afternoon of fun. One of the first rides we went on was the "deadly" Flower Jet. A small circular roller coaster with a train of cars. I went up to the front of the train, trying to secure the front car. The attendant yelled to me and as I turned, I fell from one platform next to the cars to a second one about three or four feet below me. My right leg went under me and I heard a distinct crack. The attendant then said something to me of the effect of "that's why you shouldn't be up there." He finished filling up the ride and then came over to ask me if I was alright. I looked up at him and told him, "No, I think I broke my leg." Now thinking he was in trouble, he left the ride (unattended) to go and get help.

Enter the VP of Adventureland, who arrives with two or three burly security guards. He asks the same question posed by the attendant. He gets the same answer. To which he says, "I'm sure you're fine, let's get him up." The burly security guards stand me up and I collapse again. So VP has the burly security guards carry me off to a park bench (in a hand chair, with my right leg dangling unsupported). They put me on the bench and VP sends one of the guards to fetch me a Coke. VP examines my legs and again diagnoses, "I am sure you're fine, but you should go to the hospital anyway. Do you want an ambulance?" As I am now feeling the full effects of the break and a little woozy, I decline, saying I have my mother's car and my friends can drive me to the hospital. VP is of course, pleased at this, so no screaming emergency vehicle will arrive at his park. They put me in a golf cart (in the front seat, leg still bent) and drive me out to the car (over the speed bumps). They put me in the FRONT seat and my friend drives us off to the hospital.

Upon arriving, my friends go into the emergency room and return with a nurse who brings a wheelchair. She asks what I am doing in the front seat, and I reply, this is where they put me. She gets me into the wheelchair and moves to straighten my leg (which has now been bent for about 45 minutes). She may have said something to me along the lines of, "this might hurt a little" and straightens my leg out. I nearly pass out from the pain. She rolls me into the wheelchair.

Now the story gets fun. As I start the paperwork, it becomes evident (well I already knew) that my sister is in charge of me (I am not yet 18) and my parents are in Hawaii and, wait for it . . . they have not given my sister medical power for my care. The on-call orthopedist refuses to even come to the hospital without parental consent. Finally, another orthopedist, who was there repairing a girl's knee cap, which she had fractured in a soccer game, takes pity on us and slaps the x-ray up and tells my sister, who has since arrived, "it's a simple break, want me to do it?" My sister says please.

Several hours later (did I mention it was a Sunday afternoon in June), we are released with the recommendation to go to the drug store and get some crutches. Problem is, in those days, drug stores closed at a reasonable hour on Sundays and there were no crutches to be had. Luckily, a neighbor saw us arrive home and brought us a pair he had in his basement. We called my parents in Hawaii to let them know what had happened.

In the end, VP got his and I got mine. We sued Adventureland for negligence and I got my first car out of the deal. So beware the Flower Jet, but I will still ride the rails every chance I get.