Double Dragons

A bead of sweat dripped off Scott Bailey's forehead onto the screen of his Blackberry, blotching out part of the calendar display.

September 15th. He had thought of nothing but that day for the last four months. It was back in May when his seven-year-old son, Sean, begged him to promise to ride just one roller coaster on their vacation in Orlando. He shouldn't have promised. Scott was coaster-phobic. A stupid sounding name for his fear of roller coasters, he thought, but his psychologist assured him that he was exactly that.

He was petrified of roller coasters. Just the thought of riding one caused him to gnaw his fingernails to the quick. Four months of sweaty palms, sleepless nights, and anxiety attacks, all in anticipation of that horrible day that now, God help him, had arrived.

To assure himself that the Double Dragon was safe, he spent the last four months researching every aspect of the ride. Scott now knew that the coaster had ten loops, reached speeds of sixty-five miles per hour, dropped at one point 115 feet, and took exactly two minutes and six seconds to ride.

He became obsessed with the time. 126 seconds. As he walked from his car to his office, he would count backwards from 126 to get an idea what the time felt like. He knew that thirty of the seconds would be a slow ascent in tandem with a parallel coaster up to the top of the track to its first perilous drop, so actually, the ride would be only 96 seconds of twisting, stomach churning hell. Each day he practiced counting down from 126 with his eyes closed, the same way he planned to ride the Double Dragons, with eyes closed.

By God, he was a grown man. There was no danger. The ride provides an illusion of danger. That's why people love to ride it. He just had to suck it up and prove to his son that he's a man. He could do it, and it was only 126 seconds long. 126 seconds of sheer terror.

His son ran up to him, still dripping water from the last ride.

Are you ready, Dad? he asked. Are you ready for the Double Dragons?

Scott's eyes drifted up to the huge coasters as they twisted and turned, sometimes within a foot of each other. His teeth chattered and he suddenly felt cold. Cyndi placed her hand on his shoulder.

You don't have to do this, Scott. Sean and I won't think any worse of you if you don't ride it.

Ah c'mon, Dad, you've got to. You said you would. Please?

He did have to do it. How could he face Sean later at dinner if the boy thought he was a coward? 126

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