My dad walked around Universal Studios, looking for which ride we should first conquer.
One looked like a tower, so I pulled him into the building.
The building was dimly lit with a short line of people.
I became more eager as we trotted down a dark hallway towards the light.
There was a seemingly never ending tower with seats attached.
I struggled to climb on because I’m not very tall.
A man came around to tightly secure each belt buckle.
My hands became sweaty as he sneaked over to the control panel, readying the machine.
“Are you ready?” my father asked.
“I guess so,” I replied hastily.
I lied.
I was most certainly NOT ready.
I felt scared, but I didn’t want to chicken out.
Then, that moment happened.
We shot straight up the tower.
I was traveling at the speed of light.
My hair twisted in the wind.
Before I knew it, we were at the top.
For a moment, I felt as weightless as air, but we came plummeting back down.
I was overwhelmed with rush and excitement.
I was screaming at the top of my lungs.
It was kind of like a mix of fear and pure joy.
I felt my stomach doing somersaults inside.
Surprisingly, the ride had come to an end.
I survived.
I survived one of the most heart racing moments of my life,
and I wanted to go again.