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Ever seen a chicken on a roller coaster?

Amusement parks are interesting places. Harried parents run after their kids. The indifferent lot sit the rides out.

Wearing flip flops on roller coasters isn't smart. I hadn't realised this. But if your shoes don't have a grip at the heel, and you're hanging upside down, they can fall off. The other day, I rode the Capitol Bullet Train bare foot.
I hadn't ever before sat on a roller coaster. If I have to go the rest of my life without sitting on one, I won't put up a fight. You've probably sat on a roller coaster. Maybe you love it. Thrill-seeker that you are. The adventurous type. Me, no. I was contemplating getting a tee shirt printed with #Phattu on the back, i.e. chicken.
Amusement parks are interesting places. Harried parents run after their kids. The indifferent lot sit the rides out. You get to also see how much effort goes into making the hours spent there an experience. Cobbled-stone pathways, ornamental grasses, accessible loos, good dim sums (at the Kung Fu Panda section; we all had photos taken with, who else, Dragon Warrior Po!) And anyway, since as a GCC resident you pay (for a one day pass) Dh165 a head to get in (an annual membership is Dh275), it's best to check out the entire park.
It meant nothing to me that the Capitol Bullet Train, this 'adrenaline-fuelled half-pipe rollercoaster' at Dubai Parks and Resorts, was inspired by
The Hunger Games. Only my fear and paranoia meant something to me. Here's what I remember of that one-minute ride.
We had to wait our turn for 20 minutes. The queues were long. I took solace in the fact that people younger than me were in line. They seemed excited. If they can do it so can I, right? This bullet train was a caterpillar carriage of eight or ten sections. Two seats per each section. I sat in my seat. There were no seat belts. This worried me. But a large metallic sort of stopper descended from over my head to secure me in place.
While waiting in queue, my concerns weren't about safety. I wasn't thinking about mid-air freak situations that ended with my mangled bones in a heap below and carnival tunes still playing. I had faith it was fool proof. I was more concerned about the point at which I would begin screaming.
And just like that, we were next, securing ourselves, 30 second to take off, palms getting clammy. Beginning to lose it, I asked the assistant to double check if I had secured the metal brace  around my body properly. I don't want to die! Is this thing safe?! I was fine, he reassured. Nothing will happen. Ten seconds to go. People excitedly started hooting and clapping. To belie my nervousness, so did I. The assistant pushed the button. The carriage made some kind of slow hydraulic groan and the caterpillar shifted left, on to the manic tubular rails painted red. That was my moment of peak panic, knowing I couldn't get off this thing. I don't know what happened for the next minute. I squeezed my eyes shut (not because of contact lenses), held on tight, felt mad gusts of air between my teeth and started furiously saying my prayers. I picturised a lawn and told myself it's cool, birds do this all the time. I'm just hovering over a lawn, really close to the ground.
The wretched thing halted, finally. I staggered out. I was done with roller coasters. At least I tried it. A 100 per cent improvement from never before having allowed myself to be coaxed by a bunch of grinning daredevils who couldn't wait to get on the next one.
nivriti@khaleejtimes.com