"Anticipation"
By
Joshua Schwartz
I was going to live in a
2-bedroom condo across the street from Coney Island. At least that’s what I
said when I was 12 years old. I didn’t take into account that my fantasy
pre-teen bachelor pad was actually a low income housing project. Probably not
the ideal location for a 12-year-old from a good neighborhood in Queens to
start his adventure called life. That’s the funny thing about being 12 though,
anything goes. Reality does not necessarily need to add up to actuality.
Besides, there is plenty of time for those two roads to meet.
The chatter of Howard Stern was
blaring as I was half of asleep. It was usually a quiet ride when I headed into
work with my father. I hated the mornings and our ambitious 5:45am escape onto
the Belt Parkway kept me speechless for quite a while. I always secretly hoped
for traffic just so I could have squeezed out a little more sleep. Thanks to
the Belt Parkway, I often got my wish.
“You ready today?” my dad asked
in a more chipper voice then I would have hoped to hear. Those 3 words were the
only trio that could have awaken my nervous system this morning. Unfortunately,
this was the one part of my body I would have wished to keep asleep.
“Possibly,” I said, not wanting
to commit fully. He of course was talking about the Cyclone. A rollercoaster
that I truly developed mixed feelings for at a young age. You see, I loved
Coney Island and the atmosphere it provided. However, I was petrified of roller
coasters. How could one love a place and never experience that places staple. I
was in a pickle. For a while I was able to milk my lack of height. I loved
watching some guy with no teeth measure me, knowing I wasn’t going to make the
cut.
“Oh man!” I had sighed, “Well
there is always next year.” However, I recently hit a growth spurt and I knew
that was not going to fly this year. My stomach started to growl from nerves. I
was awake.
When we arrived at the warehouse
I sprung out of the car, eager to have arrived, more eager to eat. Bagels were
brought in from Bagel Boy every day and I had my mind set on an everything with
lox. The fresh squeezed orange juice would generate enough serotonin to counter
my nerves for the time being.
I sat down on a box of matches
and felt at peace as I wiped some cream cheese from my lip. What was I so
worked up about anyways. The whole ride lasts no more than a minute. How bad
could it be? Easy to say on my own two feet, where gravity was still intact.
After breakfast I decided to
wander around the warehouse. My father was the owner so everyone sort of had to
entertain me as I went from station to station. However even at a young age I
could tell the feelings were genuine.
“Little man!” Jeff screamed as he
saw me walk by. Jeff was the head of security and always had a smile on when he
spotted me.
“I heard you had a big day at bat
last weekend,” he went on to say. He was right, I hit two home runs last
weekend at Crocheron Park. Truth is I did not like Jeff only because he
flattered my sports ego often, but the fact that he cared enough to know the
facts. Nothing worse than a person trying to relate only for the sole purpose
of relating. Of course, flattering the ego never hurts either.
“Eh I’ll be honest they weren’t
that good, but hey, I’ll take it.” We went back and forth for a while before a
large order came through the front door, cutting our little league baseball
chat short.
At this point I had almost
forgotten all about the ride that awaited. I walked into my dad’s office in a
better mood then before. He was on the phone with someone so I sat down and
started to play with a rubber band I had picked up on the floor. I always found
a way to entertain myself at the warehouse. By the time he was done I was in
Athens, Greece. In my mind at least. I had created an imaginary pole with a
paper clip and a pen that the rubber bands were to be launched onto. Each color
rubber band represented a different country. At this point it was a tie and the
next rubber band to launch onto the pen would win.
“What are you up to?” my dad
asked.
“Nothing,” I replied.
The day was flying by and I knew
we were about to leave soon from the business that was taking place. The last
activity was always to match up the receipts and checks. Often this is where I
would step in and read the receipts out loud. However today I took the day off.
“…….105, 2046, 2200, 800, 44, 44,
200, 988,”
“44, 512, 100, 100, 3216, 100.”
Everyone had their own style of
reading the receipts. Some people would pronounce the entire number where as
some would pronounce each individual number. Today was an individual number
day. 105 was pronounced “One-zero-five” instead of “One hundred and five”. I
often went back and forth between both styles. Pace was my main concern. I was
in it for speed.
“Done!” I heard someone say and
with that I knew we were off.
The car ride to Coney Island was
painful for me. I felt my body start to tingle. I hated being nervous. My dad
was planning out the entire day and every single activity sounded amazing. What
I would do to eat a Nathan’s hot dog in peace on the boardwalk. Today was
business though, I knew it was time.
Parking at Coney Island was a
puzzle for many. Luckily my father had solved that puzzle years ago. We drove
up to Gargiulo’s like usual and pulled in the lot. I learned at a young age
that a 10-dollar bill and a good hand shake could buy you anything in Brooklyn.
Instantly after getting out of
the car we gravitated towards the Cyclone. My father knew well enough not to
push the issue or mention it because I would be keen to protest. It is better
not to talk much about those things we dread. Instead, actions produce the
results anyways. As we passed the Freak Show I thought to myself, “Maybe it
will be closed today due to some weird maintenance issue that often occurs.”
This thought was erased immediately after hearing the loud rumble produced by
what could only be an 85-year-old rollercoaster.
The line was short today. It was
a Wednesday afternoon so there really was no surprise there. My father went up
to buy two tickets. No need for measurements, I was tall enough that’s for
sure. I was always intrigued by the individuals that were in charge of
operating rides. Coney Island especially seemed to make it their mission to
hire only the shadiest characters to press the buttons that send us to extreme
heights. The shady character today had a friendly aura about him though.
“Step up into the zone fella’s,”
Shady uttered.
I was shaking on the inside, but
managed to stay presentable on the outside.
“Front or back?” asked Shady.
Only negative connotations came
to mind when hearing both choices. The front, allows you to see your demise
clearly whereas the back, generates more speed; ultimately making this experience
more painful. Before I could chime in on this ultimatum my father interjected.
“Front!” he yelled excitingly. I
was doomed.
We hopped into the cart and got
strapped in. The anticipation can make you sick. Worrying, speculating, trying
to understand an outcome that could never be understood without living it. I
spent the entire day miserable waiting for this moment. Yet as the cart gained
traction gradually, I started to feel at ease.
“Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick,”
We climbed up the track slowly,
you can hear every movement and range of motion on that ride. I never felt more
intimate with an inanimate object before. As you elevate up the track, if you
listen closely you could hear the story of the coasters rich history. It opens
up to you like an old friend the minute you hop on board.
Finally, we reached the top and
for a second the Cyclone shows you a side of Brooklyn you cannot see anywhere
else. The view at its peak covers the entire park, spanning out to the ocean.
It’s the Cyclones way of smiling at you, right before it spits you into 60
seconds of turbulence. The ride itself was a blur, like most moments you waste time
worrying about. I remember screaming, but not of fear, instead of relief. The
ride came to an abrupt ending and I was now a slightly different person then I
was 3 minutes ago.
“So, how was it?” my dad looked
over and said to me as we awaited the seat belt to release.
I smiled, “Let’s do it again.”
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