Pulling up to the parking lot, I was good.
“You got this,” I thought to myself. “You is kind, you is smart, you is going to tackle the beast.”
But then I heard the bloodcurdling screams of 24 people plummeting 41 stories to their would-be deaths. I mentally began to calculate how long it would take to find a doctor to prescribe Klonopin.
Lucky me, I’m here at Six Flags Great Adventure — a 90-minute New Jersey Transit bus ride out of the Port Authority to Jackson, NJ — to test out the theme park’s newest thrill, Zumanjaro: Drop of Doom. When it opened at the beginning of July, it obliterated two world records. Disappearing 415 feet into the clouds, it’s billed as the tallest drop ride in the world, and with riders plummeting back to earth at 90 mph, it also lays claim as the fastest.
It’s a good thing I thought twice about buying that churro.
“We’re always looking to do something innovative and different, and breaking records is important,” John Fitzgerald, the park president, told me earlier. “The primary objective was . . . to come up with something that had notoriety from the beginning.”
Mission accomplished. I’m quivering, and the girls trying to shove each other into the entrance are most definitely terrified. But they suck it up, and since they are teenage girls half my size, I figure it’s time I pull it together, too.
On a recent sunny Saturday morning, the line is surprisingly short — no more than 30 minutes or so. The short line, though, means taking a stroll through the first half of the queue space in a manner not unlike walking the plank.
As if I weren’t nervous enough already, a sign greeted me midway through the line, warning, “Clothing may get soiled from track lubricant.”
Great. Now, not only was there a strong chance of soiling my pants on my own accord, I might get grease on this cute new tank top I just bought from Target. It has a pocket!
The tension builds as I get closer and closer to strapping myself into the seat. Finally, it’s time, and like a dentist appointment or a colonoscopy, I’m ready for this to be over.
I buckle up, and we begin to rise.
“So long, world,” I think. “You and I were just starting to get along. The tank top was even on sale.”
I’m suddenly distracted by the breathtaking sights around me. The Statue of Liberty ain’t got nothin’ on this. Coming into view is the Philadelphia skyline, some 50 miles away. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever — BAM.
We drop. Hurtling to the ground with legs flying, I feel like I’m floating, but also about to make a human-sized imprint in the concrete below. In less than 10 seconds, our feet are on the ground.
“I didn’t look up so I didn’t see how far we’d gone. I kept thinking, ‘Oh, we’re at the top. OK, now we’re at the top. OK, we’re at the top, no?’ It just kept going!” says Catherine Guarino, a 20-year-old visitor from Long Island who took the plunge. “First my stomach dropped, and then it, like, left,” she says of the fall.
Not only did I survive the death-defying fall, I am happy to report that both my pants and my tank top made it out just fine. Thanks for asking.