Smile On His Lips and Cuts On His Hips (Jalex)

Seven - Bombs Away!

In seventh grade, my graduating class went on a fieldtrip to a water park at the end of the year. There was a different one for each grade, kind of a congratulatory ‘we made it through the year alive with minimal mental breakdowns’ escape. Well, most of us had, anyways.

There was never anything remarkable about those trips. During the one that year, I almost threw away my then retainer in a dirty napkin after eating a shitty theme park burger, the Capri Sun choices were lacking, and Zack and I were attached at the hip as once unbreakable best friends while we dripped over the burning concrete and got stuck in the middle of tubes. But as mind numbingly average as the day was, there had always been one event that stood out to me. Something insignificant, yet I doubted I’d ever forget it.

There was this one ride: Bombs Away. See, I was afraid of heights. Not so much that I had trouble getting up a ladder to hang Christmas lights, more in the way that the existent possibly of death constantly reiterated itself when I stood near an edge that concealed a drop beyond its limits. So, while it was an average, almost perfectly rational fear, I would never have gone on that ride by myself.

It was a normal water slide; plastic enclosed tube and water that blasts from everywhere, damning your vision and choking your lungs. But the one different thing about Bombs Away? It started vertical.

The top of the tube was literally straight up and down. There was this capsule that looked like something out of a sci-fi movie at the top of the wooden structure, where you had to climb three flights of slippery, mold covered stairs to reach the fucking starting point.

A clear window was on the side of the tube went through the middle of the structure, and I vividly recalled limping up those stairs in my gray striped shorts, trying not to stumble to my death. Looking at the right time, you could see feet drop by it.

Once managing to reach the top with all limbs intact, they’d open the transparent door, usher you in and instruct you to cross your ankles while standing, put your hands behind your head and push your elbows together. They closed the door, and, just to inspire more inevitable heart attacks, a voice came over the speakers, counting down while your chest beat erratically fast and your legs shook. I distinctly remembered repetitively thinking ‘this is how I die, I am going to die.’

“Three, two, one, bombs away!”

And just like that, the floor dropped out from under your feet. The shock lasted for a millisecond – before you knew it, it’s just another slide and you’re rushing along this tube while wondering if you were actually still one in the world of the living. At least, that’s what happened to me.

I made Zack go through first, for the sole purpose of seeing him walk out of the shallow pool at the end of the tube at the bottom alive. He did, and I went, not even managing to scream on the way down due to the air quite literally being yanked out of my lungs.

After crawling out of the water, solid ground throwing off my balance and head dizzy from exhilaration, I think I had something mixed between a panic attack and involuntary high that resulted in a solid five minute laughter attack. Why that ride inspired a giggle fit, I would never understand. But it did, and Zack even coerced me to go on once again, producing the same response.

I learned a couple things from Bombs Away. One: water park rides are not, in fact, lethal. Two: I had the guts to plummet straight down purposefully. And, predominantly, three: falling is amazing.

While I was still shit scarred of accidently tripping off the edge of the Earth and plummeting to my demise, at the same time, it no longer seemed like such a bad way to go. The fear that blackened my mind was intoxicating. It was like what I imagined a shot of heroin would do. For that split second, everything was shut off except for the absolute nothing.