07.22.2002 - 12:52 p.m.

�So the reason a Styrofoam plate doesn�t really work as a Frisbee, well, besides the fact that we were in a people-packer and had no room, is that the rim gives it the wrong laminar flooooowwoooHOOOO! Yeeeeaaaah! WHOOOOO! WooooHOOOOO!

�Actually-EEEE, I bet it would work� Ooof�Lots better�Yaaaaah!�If you just cut the edge�off�Hooo, I love this thing.�

(The above is a partial transcript of my friend Tony on the backwards Rebel Yell�Everybody in the world should spend at least one day in an amusement park with an engineer.)

I. Love. Rollercoasters. Especially the ones with no lines, where you can just go around and around and around, hands up, sometimes laughing, sometimes screaming it all out, sometimes not screaming, but trying hold yourself quiet so you can collect the excitement and the speed in a hard, humming ball just behind your ribcage. It feels just like a first kiss, without the wondering if he liked it, too.

I love rollercoasters.

But I stayed on for one too many. I do that every time. I don�t know if there�s something about wooden coasters that loosens as the day goes on, or if it�s just that my spinal column was accumulating the discomfort as I went, but I remember getting to the turn on that last ride and telling my neck, It�s okay, only half left.

Then I thought, I did not just think that. I love this, remember?

Then we were around the curve and dropping, and I was screaming. Not thinking. I could hear Beth next to me, letting out a similar sound of exhilaration over agony.

We hit the Berserker on the way out. You know, that pirate ship that hangs upside down? Great for the spine, and so relaxing�

And the drive home started out well, trading massages with Tony while Beth drove, the kind of massage that involves a little more touching than is strictly required. But then there was construction traffic�somehow I ended up spelling Beth, blearily following a blue minivan through the construction and driving the rest of the way to Jimmy�s work, where Jimmy and Kelly picked me up to take me home. I spent the last hour curled up with the junk in Jimmy�s back seat, shivering whenever he cracked his window to smoke and my still-slightly-damp t-shirt caught the breeze. I just wanted to be oblivious, but too much of me hurt, and I�m not that good at sleeping in moving objects anyway.

It was two, the last time I looked at my clock. I love my bed.

(Today�s sanity is brought to you by the letter A, which stands for Advil. A wonderful, wonderful drug.)

-stonebridge

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