on that fact at first, but when I found out they were supposed to
meet us at the front gate at 12:30. more confidence rose in me, and
it began to feel more like we were heading toward a late game of
craps or penny ante poker instead of a 100 foot climb on slick
poles. What we didn't know was that they were practically carrying
the party with them, each with a bottle of Jack Daniel's Black
label, or Southern Comfort, or Everclear, and each was singing in
rackety unison the agonizing 75th stanza to '99 Bottles of Beer.'
Excitement heaved up my chest to my throat as we approached the
outer gate, and I can still remember how mystic and strange the
park looked in the dark night air. The chain fence stretched onward
in both directions to what seemed infinity, sealing us out from its
unknown hidden powers, and I recall that it almost seemed that it
was shielding Skybar inside, preventing it from wielding its wrath
on the innocent people living outside its domain. Once you crossed
the barrier, however, there was no turning back. Here was where
the two worlds divided, and the choice was made - pussy or man.
Everybody was anxious to get inside the park's gates to prove
where he stood. With the gang you felt cold and nervous while
awaiting the wrath of whatever might be lurking inside-but outside,
the chances of surviving any lurking danger alone made you even
more nervous- jittery enough to crawl up into a ball and piss your
pants at every crack of a twig.
So, you see, it's not that we all wanted to go inside. But even if we
were scared to death of climbing the cold rails of the SkyCoaster,
staying alone while the rest of the bunch climbed over and
ventured inside was even worse than the original dare itself.
Surprisingly enough, Kirby was the first one up the fence to lay his
jacket across the barbed wire and hop to the soft asphalt of Skybar
on the other side. The rest of us followed, thud, sputt, thud
sounding through the night air as we each dropped to the ground
on the other side. We were in now. Eddie Frachers, the shorter of
the two White Dragons, lit up a smoke, flicked on the flashlight,
and led the way with Brant.
The station was empty when we got to the steel rails of the coaster,
and climbing the steps to the gate station was an unusual
experience in itself since there was no waiting in line for an hour
while an old man standing in front of you blew cigarette fumes in
your face in the riding hot sun as your stomach turned putred, your
facial skin pale. Now it was home free between the coaster and us,
free space all the way.
Hurry hurry step right up!
The metal floor thundered hundreds of beats under our feet as we
made our way across the vacant station to the terminal gates, and I
looked several times over my shoulder as we walked the deserted
leading board, my senses ready for anything that might decide to
go more than 'bump' in the night. I was the first one to hear it, in
fact, and my body grew limp, my bowels limp with it when I heard
the direction it was coming from - the coaster cars.
