by Roller Coasters: Where Screams Are Applause and Gravity Is a Joke
Roller coasters are the only legal way to scream in public without someone calling the cops. You buckle into a plastic seat, question your life choices, and then get launched at 70 mph through loops that defy physics, common sense, and the burrito you had for lunch.
The ride starts with a slow climb designed specifically to let you reconsider everything. Click-click-click existential dread. At the top, your friend says, “This isn’t so bad!” and then BAM–you’re plummeting downward, screaming like a banshee on fire, while your soul leaves your body for a quick recon mission.
There’s always a guy in the front row with his hands up, a GoPro strapped to his chest, and zero fear. Meanwhile, you’re in row seven, gripping the safety bar like it’s your last will and testament, eyes shut, mouth open, and cheeks flapping like window curtains in a tornado.
The photo they take mid-ride captures your purest self: eyes wide, hair in rebellion, and a look that says, “I paid money for this?” You buy it anyway. Frame it. Hang it next to your diploma. One of them taught you more about survival.
Roller coasters are terrifying, exhilarating, and oddly cleansing. You stumble off with jelly legs, a scream-stretched throat, and a renewed zest for life–or at least for churros. Because if you can survive the Corkscrew of Doom, you can probably handle Monday.
SOURCE: How To Write Comedy & SpinTaxi.com
