Emily and Matt

When I say, “I’m so old!” it’s really meant as a joke. For example: “Emily, I can’t believe you’re married!” I then reply, “yes, I know. I’m so old!”

Last night, and this morning, I have confirmed the fact that I’m entering into old age. We gathered up a few friends, Sara and Greg and some others, to go to an amusement park that was decked out for Halloween. Having not been there in years, the scary mazes, “haunted” rides and some of the more popular, regular rides drew us in. Plus, Matt is helping our friend and Ultimate coach put up the annual haunted house at his place, so he was looking for ideas.

Everything was all well and fun as I watched Sara get scared. (She literally pointed to a corner saying “someone’s going to jump out from there!” As if on cue, the zombie appeared and she freaked out. Good times.) Since none of that stuff scares me, watching other people scream is my entertainment.

So where did the old age kick in? I would say on our fourth ride. It was fast with lots of loops and I really had no idea what was going on until we got off. Then I started to get woozy. Naturally, I tried to hide it and keep up with everyone on the rides. After all, I LOVE ROLLERCOASTERS. We ended up breaking up the pack to meet up near the front of the park at closing time. Matt and I got in one more ride, my favorite in the entire park. It was a lot of fun, until we got off. Then it really hit me: I’m going to be sick.

We met up with Sara and Greg, who were visibly tired and ready to leave. They had apparently gone on my favorite ride twice in a row because there were no lines. I was about to commend them, when they said, “the second time was when it hit us.” They too, felt woozy.

On the way back to the car, we talked about how we used to make fun of our parents for not wanting to go on all the fun rides. Now, sadly, we were starting to understand. And I understand more as I type this, because my neck, shoulders and back are sore from roller coaster brutality we endured under the guise of “fun.”