text: “Maybe we’ll get home before breakfast,” Morris complained aloud to spark conversation with anyone near enough to hear. “It’s well worth the wait. Best ride in the park. Waiting on this one is the best decision you could’ve made today,” a man some twenty years his senior boasted with a salesman’s smile. “So you’ve ridden it yourself?” Morris questioned. “Well... no,” the man was slightly embarrassed, “but its reputation speaks for itself.” The line stretched from the top of the colorful, enclosed building that housed the coaster all the way down the ramp and even wrapped around the walkway towards the rides ignored. Every minute the line added to its length; for who could resist the allure of the unknown? The warehouse was a massive slab that cost at least a fortune, spacious and towering over the land like a Gotham skyscraper. There was no way to determine the design of the coaster besides getting through the double doors at the front of the line, which unquestionably added to the enticement that inhaled whole crowds into its jaws on a daily basis. Morris was spotted nearly in the exact center of the line, standing on the third ring of stairs that allowed an elevated view of the park. Strangely, tumbleweeds wheeled through the rest of the rides with blank employees their only audience. He scoffed at the foolish majority that was so infatuated with the main attraction that they would wholly dismiss all other rides until realizing that he too had been roped in. In fact, he came to observe that every piece of the populace was gathered for the single ride, and every one that wasn’t was either entering or exiting the park. It was, at least, the perfect day to wait in such a line. Perfect temperature, and when the sun shone for longer than welcomed, even if for only a minute, the clouds would move in to close the curtain on the overstayed star. Mother Nature was in rare form, perhaps even flashing her aptitudes in the same manner as a boastful child. Her pride was evident, and her talents welcomed. A chilling thought abruptly took hold of Morris: there was no exit. Thousands of people had entered, and none had been seen again. One after another the smiling faces had piled in through the doors only to be replaced by more of the same. He laughed at his paranoia, writing it up as the product of his imagination sparked by boredom. Families flooded the park every day. If there was something ominous at work hidden in the shadows, someone would know by now. In time, he entered a meditative state amongst the inactive madness. The hours became minutes and the minutes milliseconds. The sun was nearly retired before Morris exited his trance and found himself nose to nose with his reflection in the glass doors. A giddiness arose, creating a connection of sorts between him and the eager little boy just a few paces behind him that would surely be on the same ride as himself. He wanted to turn around and give a nod of similarity to the young man but felt it a bit unbecoming. At last, the twin doors folded open and vessel-less hands took his own and led him into his prize of patience. There was no light besides the decorated signs directing traffic. Gripping the railing, Morris led his group down a narrow alley until arriving at a large, open circle that reminded him of a garbage chute. The sign above it read “COUNT TO 5 MISSISSIPPI BEFORE ENTERING.” Yet something about the system made him reluctant to throw his body into the hole. He turned around, debating if he should opt for the walk of shame, but the smiling, jittery faces coerced him to going in legs first. He slid down the slide and felt a suction pulling at his shoelaces. He winded down until being plopped in the very last cart underneath the returned lighting. One by one, the fifteen people that had been granted entry through the doors were sucked down into the appropriate seat until the ride was full. Looking ahead, Morris saw another circular chute on the wall that apparently led down and out of the ride, confirming his conviction of an overworked imagination while he was waiting. A short man with a clean face stood at the lever that started the ride in classic carney attire, a red and white striped shirt and a round hat of straw with a red ribbon around the bottom. He wore the smile of a menacing clown and shouted all at once “good luck!” As most roller coasters that are worthy of the title, the first incline was slow and steady, building anticipation and breaking the butterflies from their cocoons. Once at the peak, the ride nosedived into a pit of darkness and bended up along the wall into another. They flipped at a speed that Morris never thought possible while he held onto the contents of his pockets for dear life. The ride raged on, finding range of motion and movements that would turn the average thrill-seeker’s head white. Finally, as the starting point came into view, they entered into a circular pattern that imitated the coating of a candy cane, wheeling back to the eccentric gentleman controlling the ride. “Talk about being worth the wait,” Morris gasped, still trying to regain his breath. The ride had taken what little energy remained, and while grateful for the experience, he was excited to leave and rest before finding the next adventure. “Did we have fun?” the employee asked, answered with a resounding “yes!” “Again! Again!” the boy that was behind Morris in line begged. Morris couldn’t help but to chuckle at the lad’s enthusiasm. His smile faded into oblivion when the employee’s eyes and grin widened. “One more time!” he yelled, kicking the lever down and starting the machine once more. “No! I need to leave,” Morris pleaded unheard, and the ride was in full swing once again. As it ended for the second time, Morris began to feel ill. Thank heavens it was finally over... or so he thought. “Again! Again!” the boy wailed for the second time. “The boy’s a programmed android!” Morris thought to himself in disbelief. He was, under no condition, riding the trap again, and he told the worker as much. “Just one more time. Where’s your spirit at?” the man laughed as he shifted it into drive for the third time. On and on the process continued. For a fourth, fifth, twelfth time until Morris lost count. He was becoming adjusted, and suddenly the once intricate design had morphed into slow, flat circles. The repetition had become maddening, but eventually, Morris had grown quite fond of the ride. He couldn’t help but to note his gratitude at finally becoming acclimated to the coaster that he was once weary of. They pulled into the starting station again. “Alright, I think that’s enough,” the employee grinned. “Again! Again!” not the boy, but Morris began to shout.