Hands Inside the Ride at All Times

November 14, 2016
By , Portland, OR

On Christmas break in fourth grade me and my family went on a vacation to Las Vegas, Nevada. We stayed in a hotel and casino called circus circus. Now, this hotel had a small amusement park inside called the Adventure Dome. It was a large pink glass dome in the middle of the building that had roller coasters, carnival games and a restaraunt. And the greatest attraction of all was a large water ride where you ride up to the highest point in the dome and...drop.


But before the drop you ride up a large mountain with concrete walls on either side of the ¨boat¨. The person in charge told the riders to keep hands and feet inside the ride at all times. I should have listened to him better.
As the ¨boat¨ was going up the concrete mountain I dipped my hand into the water outside the boat. Then the concrete got narrower... and narrower.... Until finally my arm got stuck between the boat and the wall. The boat was going forward but my arm was still stuck against the wall. With no emergency stop buttons in sight I could only hope to dislodge my arm from that narrow crevice. I pulled and pulled and was finally able to dislodge my arm from the crevice but in the process I skinned my entire arm. I was pretty sure that I could see muscle.
When that horror show ended I got off the ride and was running back to our hotel room with my arm in pain and dripping with blood. Needless to say I did not want to be there any more. On the way back I ran into my mom who was coming to get me for dinner. She saw me and started walking over then she saw my arm and started running. She asked what happened and I was embarrassed and felt really stupid so I pretended that I didn't notice it. She rushed me back to the hotel room where I cleaned up my arm. My mom sterilized it with rubbing alcohol which hurt, alot. Then she helped me wrap a bandage around my arm all the way up to my elbow.

Then we went down to the ground floor where my sister and dad were waiting. My dad was concerned but my sister still being quite young did not care. As we ate dinner we filled my dad in on my story. We went home the next day and by school time all that was left was a large scab and later there was not even a scar, but the moral of the story is listen to the person who knows more than you.

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