Over this last weekend my fraternity and I went to Cedar Point to work as apart of the “Ride Pride” program, an organization that woos you in with hopes of free time rides and overall good times before slowly crushing your soul through 10 + hour straight work shifts, strange jabs, and a dorm room to sleep in that is so cold your tears from the day in hell freeze by the time they slide halfway down your cheek. Before we left, we saw that there was a “Fuck Cedar Point Ride Pride” group on Facebook and wondered what we were getting ourselves into. Now that we’re back home, the group has several new members from Holland, Michigan.
It’s not like this was an entirely new situation for all of us either. Last year we went to Cedar Point to work on the “Scare Team.” We dressed up in costumes, we hid behind corners in the haunted house “Club Blood,” and we endured hours at a time in the “Body Bag Room” surrounded by two off-setting strobe lights that left you convinced that you were having an epileptic seizure. We stayed in a prison camp surrounded by barbed wire fences and we survived off of chicken fingers and pizza from the luxurious employee café`. But during Scare Team no one ever said, “Hey you look like you’d be a good sweeper, here’s a broom,” or gave you your final break at 6 p.m. forcing you to work six hours straight of, “Sorry ma’am, your kid’s not tall enough,” or force you to watch guests enjoying their time on the rides while you can only stand and watch, forcing a smile to your face at every one in five adults making the same cheesy joke about whether or not they were taller than the measuring stick.
And it’s not even like I’m a big rides guy. In fact I don’t like rides at all. Part fear, part crappy stomach, butin the couple of times that I’ve been to Cedar Point, I was never able to work up enough courage to go on the Millennium Force. Was it the ridiculous speed? The 300 foot drop? Or was it mainly because I’m a p-u-s-s-why the hell do so many people have to love amusement parks and force me into these sizzle scenarios? Honestly, I secretly hope that my kids have weak stomachs along with acrophobia, tachophobia, emetophobia, and any other rollercoaster related phobia that prevents the, “Daddy, Daddy, let’s ride this one!” event that ends with me curled into a ball in the middle of the Cedar Point sidewalk watching my own daughter clean up my puke. Talk about the ultimate, “Dad you’re embarrassing me!” moment.
But this time was going to be different. I was going to face my fears and ride the Millennium Force. Of course it would have to be at night so that I couldn’t see what I had gotten myself into. My pregame meal: KFC Double Down. I think it says a lot for my greasy diet when my reaction to seeing the Double Down in person was, “Eh, it doesn’t really look that bad.” Also, I love that KFC offers a “grilled” option for the Double-Down, like suddenly switching the doubly greasy chicken patties over to the bland grilled variety transforms the sure heart attack into the Subway Veggie Delight. Regardless of any future health bills I would be paying for the sandwich or the high percentage chance that the Double Down would be double up after the Millennium Force, I downed the bunless wonder with a side of mac and cheese and continued on my quest.
Standing in line I repeatedly weighed the option of continuing on in my near panic attack or enduring the embarrassment of walking back through the line of people explaining to 10-12 year olds that I just couldn’t work up the courage. When I finally hopped in the cart and buckled in, I felt about as nervous as LeBron James being harnessed in by Dan Gilbert.
“Enjoy your ride Mr. James.”
“Isn’t this harness supposed to come all the way down?!?”
“Ahaaahahaha!”
Then something amazing happened. I don’t know what it was, I don’t know how it happened, but halfway down that first never ending drop, my hands went up like Miley Cyrus and I let out a Spartan-esque battle cry (although it probably sounded more like a girls’ squeal at a Hannah Montana concert). I’m not a hands up on a rollercoaster kind of guy! I’m the guy with the tight, white-knuckle grip, strangling the life out of the foamy pad in front of me, hanging on for dear life type of guy. But yet there I was actually enjoying one of the most intense rollercoasters Cedar Point had to offer. When it finished, I wanted to go on again. I was bragging to anyone I could find, the line, “I just rode the Millennium Force” becoming like some sort of cheesy bar pick-up line.
“I rode the Millennium Force.”
“Yeah… I rode that in the fifth grade?”
However, fun, happy, ride time was over, and the misery of Ride Pride time began. As a member of Ride Pride at Cedar Point you are allowed to be either entirely clean shaven face or keep a mustache, no fumanchu, no goatee, just a singular mustache. You better believe I rocked the blonde caterpillar above my upper lip. It’s amazing how much creepier everything you do becomes when sporting a mustache. I’m pretty sure I was put on the Ohio sex offenders list just for smiling at a family of four. My job was to either work the measuring stick at the front of the line or help make sure people were strapped in before take off.
The ride I was working at was the Iron Dragon. There were seven turquoise carts, that I can best describe as bumper boats put in the air. Four people to each cart, two rows of two, the ride being like the Raptor where the track is above your head instead of below, but not being like the Raptor in that there were no drops or upside down turns the entire way. Each passenger was strapped in by a U shaped vest that came down over your shoulders and came down to the top of the varying sizes of Cedar Point guests’ guts.
Early on in my fourteen hour shift, I saw what quite possibly could have been the largest woman I’ve ever seen in my life. Now when I say large I don’t mean the large like, “Hey she consumed too many 8 dollar bowls of Dippin’ Dots ice cream” (although she probably had), but large in the sense that if she were wearing turquoise, she could have been a cart. This woman was so large she made the Top Thrill Dragster get up and dive into Lake Erie just to avoid her. She made the Power Tower turn into a struggling freshmen squatter, the Millennium Force turn into a 5 mile per hour joy ride. As I watched her come barreling her way through the Iron Dragon line like a bowling ball on a marble track, I looked down at the measuring stick and began to wonder, “Should I use this horizontally?”
Gates opened. She oozed her way through. She was eyeing the cart, the cart was eyeing me, hoping for some type of cart-for-cart substitution. She hopped in. The cart trembled in fear. I went to check on the other riders’ vests and when I returned I couldn’t believe my eyes.
The woman had positioned herself in the middle of the two seats and had pulled down the two vests, one for her left arm, one for her right arm. Seeing this as some sort of violation, I politely said, “Ma’am you’re not allowed to do that.” Her response: “But I’m double safe.” Yes ma’am, you’re double safe the way a double-down sandwich is double damn healthy for you. Good Lord, at one point I felt like I was looking at a human double-down sandwich, the middle divider serving as a break between two greasy butt-cheek patties. Fifteen minutes later my supervisor announced that the ride was undergoing maintenance and would be temporarily out of order. I wonder what could possibly have been the reason.
As I went down the stairs to go put up the, “This ride is closed” sign, the guests furious at the inconvenience to their fun filled day, me being thrilled to begin my unscheduled break, I began to think about the Dallas Mavericks (my mind is literally just a hurricane of thoughts about the NBA mixed in with my everyday life). The title contenders, the Lakers, the Heat, the Celtics are like Cedar Point as a guest, all the big rides are there and all the guests are screaming with joy. The Dallas Mavericks are like Cedar Point as Ride Pride, all the big rides are still there, but you simply can’t enjoy them.
Point Guard
Jason Kidd is the old wooden roller-coaster that was the main attraction years ago, but now has been surpassed by faster, newer rides. It’s still amazing how well Kidd is still playing.
Shooting Guard
Caron Butler and Jason Terry are the rides you go on when the wait in line is far too long for the Kobe, D-Wade, Brandon Roy coasters.
Small Forward
Shawn Marion has all the statistics of a great ride, career 17.3 ppg, 9.6 rpg, but somehow it doesn’t translate into a championship caliber starting forward.
Power Forward
Dirk Nowitzki is a first team, all world level superstar but yet somehow he isn’t able to take his team to an NBA championship like the rest of the rides. Strange feeling that Dirk will be in the MVP hunt again this season.
Center
Tyson Chandler and Brendan Haywood have the height and versatility of a great roller coaster ride, but haven’t been able to be running smoothly for long stretches at a time.
Verdict
I think the Mavericks will win 55 + games and be the three seed out West, possibly the two, and depending on if Kobe has to sit out for awhile during the season the Mavericks could even find their way to the one seed. However, the Mavericks always overachieve in the regular season and as we saw in the Golden State series, the one seed doesn’t necessarily mean you’re the best team in the conference or guaranteed a long playoff run. Mavs will probably draw the Utah Jazz in the first round, win, then lose a hard fought series to the Thunder in the second round. All in all, the Mavericks will continue to have the top level attractions, continue to have the Mark Cuban funding, but the fans will continue to be forced to work the rides rather than be atop of the Millennium Force, screaming their double-down asses off like never before.
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