ArtsAutosBooksBusinessEducationEntertainmentFamilyFashionFoodGamesGenderHealthHolidaysHomeHubPagesPersonal FinancePetsPoliticsReligionSportsTechnologyTravel

Life Lessons From The Loch Ness Monster

Updated on August 1, 2012

This is an editorial I wrote for my summer internship at East Penn Publishing.

My name is David Adams Amerman. I'm a rising senior at Penn State studying journalism, English and theatre, I've been interning with the Parkland Press and Northwestern Press newspapers this summer and, like most people with a pulse, I've been known to enjoy long walks on the beach.

I can also tell you with utmost sincerity that, for most of my life, I have been a wimp.

I can't say with a shred of honesty that I've ever taken a substantial risk in my life.

I've taken stock of my fears and inhibitions and diligently made a point to avoid any path containing such spooky obstacles under the impression there was nothing wrong with taking the safe route.

After all, what's wrong with safety? Feeling secure isn't exactly the most putrescent notion ever conceived of, right?

That's what I thought until one early July morning when I was catching up on my television obsession, "Breaking Bad," to prepare for the upcoming season premiere.

I was watching a scene where main character Jesse Pinkman comes to terms with his questionable life choices in a Narcotics Anonymous meeting and one line of dialogue in particular left me thinking: "If you just do stuff and nothing happens, what's it all mean? What's the point?"

The poignancy of just that one piece of dialogue was downright indelible. What good was it doing me to take the easy road through life if I wasn't getting anything worthwhile out of it?

It was that o'dark hundred introspection that inspired me to take the Pinkman challenge and do something meaningful, something that would make me think of myself as less of a human wasteland.

I thought about which of my fears I might want to conquer and, remembering an upcoming Virginia trip with friends to Busch Gardens, I decided to challenge my fear of heights and of looping roller coasters by taking on Busch Gardens' Loch Ness Monster.

Though I've been constantly informed roller coasters are structurally sound and safe to ride, the combination of Jimmy Stewart-esque vertigo and the idea that a single loose bolt could spell catastrophe at any given time has kept me close to the ground at amusement parks for always and eternity thus far.

And, with a lift hill of 130 feet and featuring two interlocking loops, Loch Ness Monster was a phobia double whammy for me. Heck, just looking at the coaster's Wikipedia article gave me heart murmurs.

But on July 15, there I was: willingly waltzing into the steely yellow bowels of the Scottish beast with my happy-go-lucky coaster fanatic compadre, Phil. Though Phil repeatedly attempted to assure me of Loch Ness Monster's timidity in comparison to taller and loopier rides, I was already in panic mode by the time I had reached the turnstile.

Phil and my other friends can tell you I have a slightly irritating habit of singing when I'm scared. The first time I rode Thunderhawk, an 80-foot wooden coaster in Dorney Park, I clenched my eyes so tight my eyelashes touched my lips and I sang the Meow Mix theme song until we had finished climbing up the lift hill.

Therefore, given the extra 50 feet in lift hill height and two loops, I was already muttering freshly listened-to Alice in Chains songs with a bad Eddie Vedder voice as I stood in line, eliciting bewildered looks from the thrill-seeking vessels of nonchalance around me. There was still time to back out. I could just cite a faux queasiness and tiptoe away from the impending horrors, but I was not about to disappoint me, my friend or Jesse Pinkman.

After roughly 10 minutes of stomach-gurgling anticipation, the time had come for me to strap in tight to the tri-tone colored train. Vibrating, queasy and reluctant as can be, my fears had come to fruition as the train began to climb the lift hill. The ominous metal clanging of the chain's ascension brought forth images of nuts and bolts coming loose, conjuring images of spiraling blue and red police lights, body bags and sad relatives.

So, like a third grader caught in class, I made silent and permanent eye contact with the floor of the roller coaster train. With one irrational fear already in mind, the last thing I needed at this point was that morbid sense of acrophobia. Finally, we reached the peak, where I was forced to take a lasting glance with fluttering eyelids at the 114-foot drop before my teary-eyed, mouth agape 'WAAAUUUUGGGGHHHHH!' of terror toward the murky Virginian Rhine River below.

Sweaty palms, shaking limbs and momentary visions of the grim reaper notwithstanding, I survived.

The first scary element was complete, but I still had two more extra-sticky Band-Aids to rip off my hairy leg before it was over: the two interlocking loops. I thought to prepare myself for a second round of horrors comparable to the lift hill, but I didn't have enough time.

You see, the thing about roller coasters is they rarely ever stop or go backwards. Much like life, roller coasters tend to ascribe to consistently forward motion. Backpedaling, at least in the case of the Loch Ness Monster, would be counterproductive.

With this bite-size epiphany lodged in my cerebellum, the interlocking loops weren't so scary anymore. In fact, they were veritably enjoyable. For the first time in my life, I was able to open my eyes, become part of the thrill-seeking experience and relish the salty afternoon air as it roared by like a fleet of yellow Ferraris on the interstate.

And then it was over. My fears slightly conquered and my eyes still tearing from the 60 mile an hour speeds, I peppily floated over to the ride photo booth and looked at the post-loop expression they had captured: a squashed duo of familiar fearfulness and wonder for having discovered something previously alien. And, to me, that jubilance I felt from plumbing the previously unknown might very well have been the best possible thing I could have experienced to prepare myself for life after college.

I still have no clue what the future has in store for me once my graduation cap comes fluttering down to earth two semesters from now. I have ambitions of becoming a creative writer of some sort, but such an occupation doesn't really provide clear as crystal certainty as far as financial stability and job safety.

And you know what? That's fine by me. It's high time I take the exit off the safe route and go exploring. After all, what good are ambitions if we don't ever act on them? The worst thing I could possibly do for my future is deny myself the chance of achieving a lofty goal by letting it become a pipe dream. So what if it takes work and determination to become a comedy writer or a screenwriter? I can do it. It's a worthwhile pursuit.

As far as I'm concerned, if I can defeat the Loch Ness Monster and retain enough lucidity to write an overlong account of the situation, then pursuing my dreams should be about as unnerving as riding Thunderhawk.

working

This website uses cookies

As a user in the EEA, your approval is needed on a few things. To provide a better website experience, hubpages.com uses cookies (and other similar technologies) and may collect, process, and share personal data. Please choose which areas of our service you consent to our doing so.

For more information on managing or withdrawing consents and how we handle data, visit our Privacy Policy at: https://corp.maven.io/privacy-policy

Show Details
Necessary
HubPages Device IDThis is used to identify particular browsers or devices when the access the service, and is used for security reasons.
LoginThis is necessary to sign in to the HubPages Service.
Google RecaptchaThis is used to prevent bots and spam. (Privacy Policy)
AkismetThis is used to detect comment spam. (Privacy Policy)
HubPages Google AnalyticsThis is used to provide data on traffic to our website, all personally identifyable data is anonymized. (Privacy Policy)
HubPages Traffic PixelThis is used to collect data on traffic to articles and other pages on our site. Unless you are signed in to a HubPages account, all personally identifiable information is anonymized.
Amazon Web ServicesThis is a cloud services platform that we used to host our service. (Privacy Policy)
CloudflareThis is a cloud CDN service that we use to efficiently deliver files required for our service to operate such as javascript, cascading style sheets, images, and videos. (Privacy Policy)
Google Hosted LibrariesJavascript software libraries such as jQuery are loaded at endpoints on the googleapis.com or gstatic.com domains, for performance and efficiency reasons. (Privacy Policy)
Features
Google Custom SearchThis is feature allows you to search the site. (Privacy Policy)
Google MapsSome articles have Google Maps embedded in them. (Privacy Policy)
Google ChartsThis is used to display charts and graphs on articles and the author center. (Privacy Policy)
Google AdSense Host APIThis service allows you to sign up for or associate a Google AdSense account with HubPages, so that you can earn money from ads on your articles. No data is shared unless you engage with this feature. (Privacy Policy)
Google YouTubeSome articles have YouTube videos embedded in them. (Privacy Policy)
VimeoSome articles have Vimeo videos embedded in them. (Privacy Policy)
PaypalThis is used for a registered author who enrolls in the HubPages Earnings program and requests to be paid via PayPal. No data is shared with Paypal unless you engage with this feature. (Privacy Policy)
Facebook LoginYou can use this to streamline signing up for, or signing in to your Hubpages account. No data is shared with Facebook unless you engage with this feature. (Privacy Policy)
MavenThis supports the Maven widget and search functionality. (Privacy Policy)
Marketing
Google AdSenseThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
Google DoubleClickGoogle provides ad serving technology and runs an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
Index ExchangeThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
SovrnThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
Facebook AdsThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
Amazon Unified Ad MarketplaceThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
AppNexusThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
OpenxThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
Rubicon ProjectThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
TripleLiftThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
Say MediaWe partner with Say Media to deliver ad campaigns on our sites. (Privacy Policy)
Remarketing PixelsWe may use remarketing pixels from advertising networks such as Google AdWords, Bing Ads, and Facebook in order to advertise the HubPages Service to people that have visited our sites.
Conversion Tracking PixelsWe may use conversion tracking pixels from advertising networks such as Google AdWords, Bing Ads, and Facebook in order to identify when an advertisement has successfully resulted in the desired action, such as signing up for the HubPages Service or publishing an article on the HubPages Service.
Statistics
Author Google AnalyticsThis is used to provide traffic data and reports to the authors of articles on the HubPages Service. (Privacy Policy)
ComscoreComScore is a media measurement and analytics company providing marketing data and analytics to enterprises, media and advertising agencies, and publishers. Non-consent will result in ComScore only processing obfuscated personal data. (Privacy Policy)
Amazon Tracking PixelSome articles display amazon products as part of the Amazon Affiliate program, this pixel provides traffic statistics for those products (Privacy Policy)
ClickscoThis is a data management platform studying reader behavior (Privacy Policy)