Dear Roller Coasters,

I'm sorry it took me 26 years to realize that you're amazing. The Pacific Northwest is not exactly abundant in adrenaline rides. And after the Benton Franklin County Fair Scream Machine carnies once forgot to lock our restraints and handles I was left less than eager to leave my life in a ride's hands. Alas, I'll try not to make excuses. The important thing is now I understand. It's all so clear. My life will now be perceived in terms of B.T. and A.T. - Before Tatsu and After Tatsu. I feel like an adult virgin that finally got her boob grabbed (or got to grab a boob, for the gents). Adrenaline! Wind! Anticipation! The click click clicking of ascending! Fear! Suspense! Wahoooooooz!

I know the recession is a pain in the ass and everything, but as far as amusement park ride lines? Viva la economic turmoil! Magic Mountain = half the time walking through the empty mazes of turnstiles took long enough to ensure a walk straight onto the ride. Which was great, because after my post coital reflection of Tatsu I wanted to go on EVERYTHING. Suspend me, spin me, drop me! I'll sweat and I'll scream and I'll probably pee a little, but I'll love you. I'LL LOVE YOU SO HARD, ROLLER COASTER!!

I'd also like to apologize to Disneyland for ignoring its presence for so long. It is merry, it is magic, and really is the happiest place on Earth. Space Mountain, I finally get it, you'e the best you knucklehead! Splash Mountain, you're so silly and I miss you already. And don't worry, little girl's XL Ariel nightgown… I'll continue to keep myself up at night wondering why I didn't buy you.

I know I have a lot of lost time to make up for, but I'm finally ready! Hands up bitches!!

Love,

Sarah

roller coasters