Disney Day 4

Our second day at Disney World and fourth day of vacation was spent at Disney/MGM Studios. Everyone remembered their tickets this time and a light rain kept us cool most of the day. We saw the Muppet Show in 3-D, took pictures with Sheriff Woody from "Toy Story" and toured The Haunted Mansion. Everything was going really well until I lost my mind and agreed to ride the "Tower of Terror!"

Those who know me are aware of my crippling fear of heights. Bethany had to clean our gutters this spring because in the 8 years we have lived in our house, I have never made it high enough on a ladder to complete the task myself. So agreeing to go on a ride with an advertised 13 story free-fall was one of the bravest things I have ever volunteered to do. The inspiration for this ride was derived from an old episode of the Twilight Zone in which a family meets their doom in the bottom of an elevator shaft in a creepy, old hotel. Heights and ghosts- great! 4 year old Morgan and 5 year old Alex were brave enough to not let the spooky setting deter them from their quest to ride, so I felt compelled to put on a brave face.

Shortly after entering the elevator, the lights went out. I could feel Alex squirming in his seat. I assured him that everything was fine. No one was reassuring me, however. We then moved to a floor where the doors opened up to reveal an image of the doomed family of ghosts. Everyone in the elevator became nervous. Then, the lights went out and we starting ascending rapidly. We paused just long enough to ponder what would happen next when we dropped like a bag of hammers. Screams pierced my eardrums as we plummeted to our demise. When we stopped, I realized that it was me, not Morgan, who was screaming like a little girl. Relieved to be alive, I relaxed the death grip I had on Alex's arm just before the elevator rocketed to the top of the building. I screamed bloody murder until we peaked at the top of the tower. For a split second we were weightless and elated to be alive. Just then, the doors opened in front of us to reveal a view from 130 feet above the park. It was both beautiful and terrifying. We were in that position long enough to realize just how high 130 feet is when all of the sudden we dropped again. I am fairly certain that I was crying. I prayed for the ride to stop. I told God that from now on I would be a good boy. I would do my homework every day. I would stop picking on my brother. I would stop picking my nose. I would stop hanging out with the bad kids. I would save myself for marriage. Anything- just make it stop! And it did stop. And I was so happy. My prayers had been answered! What a relief! I didn't die. It wasn't so bad. I guess I didn't need Divine intervention afterall. I didn't really mean any of that stuff I said anyway. I was just scared. God would understand. Then we dropped again. And stopped. And dropped again. And stopped. And then we went all the way to the top fast enough make my eye balls melt into the back of my skull. At the top the doors flew open again to reveal our mind-numbingly high altitude. "Mommy." And then we really dropped. 130 feet straight down. (We found out later that we were dropping at twice the rate of gravity due to Disney engineering!) As we neared rock bottom, so did my spirit. I decided to accept my fate that my life was now over. I would no longer fight it. As I prepared to be launched into the hereafter again and again I realized that we were finally stopped for good and that the rest of the people on the ride were leaving. Miraculously I had survived! Shaking like a Chihuahua in a Pit Bull's food bowl, I exited the compartment. I leaned over and asked Alex if he was alright.

"Let's do that again, Dad!"

Maybe some other lifetime, Son. Daddy needs a new pair of shorts.