I’m writing this article from the safety of my therapist’s couch, where I’ve been residing for the past week. My therapist, Dr. Smith, has been kind enough to provide me with a blanket, a box of tissues, and a gentle reminder that I’m not, in fact, a chicken.
It all began innocently enough. My 12-year-old daughter, a budding soccer star, had a game coming up. In a moment of weakness (or sheer stupidity), I promised her that if she scored a goal, I would ride the infamous “Big Thunder Mountain Railroad” roller coaster at Magic Kingdom.
I mean, what were the chances, right? She’s a goalie, for crying out loud! She’s not exactly known for her scoring prowess. But, as fate would have it, her coach (a.k.a. my arch-nemesis) found out about my promise and decided to put her in the game as a forward.
Fast forward to the game, and I’m watching in horror as my daughter scores not one, but TWO goals. The crowd goes wild, my daughter is ecstatic, and I’m over here wondering how I’m going to get out of this predicament as my daughter and her coach are laughing at my horror from the sidelines.
Cut to our family vacation a few months later, and we’re standing in line for “Big Thunder Mountain Railroad.” My daughter is bouncing with excitement, while I’m quietly having a nervous breakdown.
As we inch closer to the front of the line, I start to feel my anxiety spike. My palms are sweating, my heart is racing, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to vomit.
Finally, we reach the front of the line, and I’m ushered into the roller coaster car. My daughter gives me a reassuring pat on the back, and I’m off.
The next few minutes are a blur. I remember screaming, crying, and begging for mercy. I’m pretty sure I left my dignity on the tracks.
As we exited the ride, my daughter turned to me with a huge grin on her face and said, “That was so much fun, Dad! Can we ride it again?”
I think I might have blacked out for a second.
In conclusion, I’d like to say that I’m never riding a roller coaster again. I’d also like to remind my daughter that I’m still recovering from the trauma she inflicted upon me.
And to my daughter’s coach, I have one thing to say: you’re a monster.
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