A machochist at Thorpe Park
I wouldn't call myself an adrenaline junkie, but there are other ways to enjoy thrill rides
I was visiting a friend in London, and he suggested a day trip to Thorpe Park. That's not something I would have thought of on my own, but new experiences are how you stay young, so I agreed to give it a go.
I'm not entirely unfamilar with theme parks. Alton Towers and Drayton Manor were favourite destinations for the reward trip just before the summer holidays, but I haven't set foot in a theme park since I was in my early twenties and my dad asked me to make up adult numbers for one of his classes.
My attitude towards thrill rides is probably best summed up by a term I coined in a different context: machochist. A portmanteau of macho and masochist, a machochist is someone who gets satisfaction, not from the physical sensations of pain, but from the ego boost of successfully enduring it. I push myself so that, when I return to solid ground, I can triumphantly declare that I survived.
My friend decided Collossus would be the best ride on which to lose my "Thorpe Park virginity", and since I knew nothing about the various rides, I was happy to put myself in his hands. As is all too common at theme parks, there was an extremely long queue, which I tried to approach in a philosophical spirit. As we queued, a recording reminded us over and over that Collossus was the world's first ten-loop rollercoaster, as well as providing a safety briefing I could recite along with by the time we got to the ride station. My friend decided to relieve the boredom of queuing by getting on my nerves, and I resolved that I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of hearing me scream.
Honestly, I think that was a mistake. I was so focused on not screaming that I didn't really take in much of the ride. It was just a rapid sequence of twists in various directions that I endured with clenched teeth until it was over, and he didn't even notice that I hadn't screamed.
We got some lunch, the queuing having taken up the whole morning, and after that I was ready to tackle another ride, certain it couldn't be as bad as Collossus. My friend suggested Nemesis Inferno, which wasn't quite as intense as Collossus and didn't have such an obnoxious queue. I'd had the chance to loosen up a bit, the ride started with a dive that was exciting rather than terrifying. I let out an exultant shout, which helped me not be ashamed to scream when we came to the looping bits. That's definitely a better way to enjoy a rollercoaster.
My friend suggested the Rumba Rapids as a change of pace, and I enjoyed it enough to be actually grinning on the ride picture. But it wasn't particularly exciting, so I agreed to go on another rollercoaster. He offered me the choice of The Swarm followed by Hyperia or Hyperia followed by The Swarm, and I decided to take the less terrifying option first.
The Swarm has an apocalyptic theme, which entertained us in the queue and kept us from bickering too badly. The queuing is in some ways part of the experience: watching others enjoy the ride and hearing their screams builds anticipation, and in my case gives me a chance to get rather nervous about what lies ahead. As the operators check that we're properly secured, I invariably have a moment of wondering whether this was the worst idea I ever had. But even if it was theoretically possible to ask to get off at that point, my innate stubbornness wouldn't let me do anything other than go through with it.
The ride itself was similar in intensity to Nemesis Inferno, and once again I whooped on the milder parts and screamed on the loops. Then we went to join the queue for Hyperia, which was horribly long as befits the park's newest and most exciting ride. To make matters worse, I was tired and my phone battery was almost exhausted. There was video to entertain and inform us in the queue, however, so now I know that Hyperia is the UK's tallest rollercoaster at 236 feet, and the fastest with a top speed of over 80 mph.
As we finally reached the ride station, my friend told me this was my idea. I protested that he had offered me two options which both involved riding Hyperia, but he brushed that aside as irrelevant. We boarded, and I had my usual panic right before we started to move.
Even being winched up the lift hill was frightening. The steep angle of the ascent reminded me what was to come, and I couldn't bear to look at what I'm sure were very impressive views from the top. And then came the first drop.
I'm glad Collossus cured me of any thoughts of trying not to scream, because I don't think there's any other way I would have got through a vertical drop. I essentially started screaming then and continued, with brief pauses for breath, until we slowed just outside the ride station.
As we disembarked, I asked my friend if he still claimed Hyperia was my idea. He insisted that it was, so I told him that it was definitely a good one. We stopped in the gift shop so I could buy a shot glass - the souvenir I thought I was most likely to use - and a drink because my mouth was dry from screaming. Everything else had closed, with Hyperia only remaining open to give everyone in the queue a chance to ride, so we slowly made our way back to the car park.
Immediately after disembarking, I said that I was glad I'd ridden it but felt no urge to ever ride it again. But as we walked away, with others still enjoying their ride, I shifted towards grinning widely at the memory. Before we even reached the car, I was talking about coming back another day. There are a few rides we didn't get a chance to try, including one with a hundred-degree drop. And I think I'd like another go on Collossus, just to see how I like it if I let myself scream.