Mckenzie Collinsworth

It was the summer of 2015, and I was at Kings Island for the very first time on a weekend trip with my family. I was eight years old and after what felt like ages, I was finally tall enough to ride the taller rides. My sister was even more thrilled than me since she was two years older and had been waiting for me to grow so that she would have someone to ride the more thrilling rides with. We started small and as the day went on we had made it to the roller coaster with the tallest drop in Kings Island at the time. My sister was dying to go and asked me to come with her over and over again. I was the only option since my mom does not ride roller coasters, my little sister was two, and my dad gets motion sickness. Everyone was trying to convince me to go, especially because the lines were exceptionally short that day. Something about my family is that when we go somewhere, we are going to get the full experience. In other words, we were not leaving until we went on all the rides. Consequently, I started to cry. I really wanted my sister to be able to experience the ride but I really did not want to be the one to go with her. I just kept looking up at this giant obnoxiously bright orange ride and thinking about the ginormous drop. That was when my dad said to me that if I did not go on the ride, I would most probably regret it later because I might not get a chance to go on this specific ride ever again. Spoiler alert: we went back two years later, but at the time I wholeheartedly believed that this was my one and only chance.
With tears streaming down my face, I got in line right behind my sister. I measured myself earlier and I was around an inch or two too short but I was not going to let that stop me. At the entrance for the line of the ride, the lady saw me and immediately grabbed the stick they used to make sure all riders were the correct height. Every time she looked up I would stand on my toes with my head held high and when she looked down I would flatten my feet. I am sure the worker noticed what I was doing because she looked back and forth between the top of the measuring stick and down at my feet multiple times but eventually told me I was free to get in line.
They measured me yet again when I got to the front of the line but I just used the same strategy as previously stated. Again, the worker looked skeptical but let me get on. The panic got about 10x worse when I sat in the seat and was buckled in. The ride up the hill felt like ages, and my sister was still attempting to pretend that she was still brave. She had a tight-lipped smile the whole way up while I was trying to remember how to breathe. When we got to the top of the hill and were waiting those few seconds for the coaster to go down the drop, my sister thought it would be a great idea to hold my wrist, and on the way down she squeezed my wrist so hard that it was red after the ride. Instead of coming off the ride crying and telling my parents that I would never do that again (which is exactly what my parents thought was going to happen), eight-year-old-me came off the ride with the biggest smile on my face. I immediately went and told my parents how much fun I had on the ride and asked my sister if we could go a second time. She agreed and yet again I smiled and laughed the whole way down and she squeezed my wrist extremely hard and screamed in my ear the whole ride. I then asked to go again, my sister was reluctant but still agreed since the lines are never that short. However, this time I asked her to not hold my hand. I think one can guess that after the ride was over I asked to go again: however, that time my sister said no.
This is a core memory for me and I look back on this moment all the time. That was the very first time I realized how much doing things out of your comfort zone matters and also how much I loved the feeling of adrenaline.
This probably is not the best advice to carry with you every day since I end up doing random things because I’m worried I will regret it if I don’t, such as the one time I went cliff jumping even though I was terrified. After all, I was so sure I would never get another chance. I have since ridden all the rides in Cedar Point, and Kings Island, went parasailing, rode a four-wheeler, ziplined across mountains, jet skied, rode a camel, went scuba diving, swam with a dolphin and I have done all of these with my sister. All a result of the advice my dad gave me when I was eight. The adventure will continue this October when my sister and I go skydiving to celebrate my 18th birthday.