Landry had a weird relationship with the machines. “You’re still freaked out about roller coasters?” Landry was eerily quiet beside me, and when I focused on him, his eyes were wide, brow beaded with sweat. It was wooden, patched, and sounded rickety as hell.Ī grin permanently stretched my lips and my skin tingled, anticipating the rush of air and the belly-flipping drops, as I reveled in the screams of the current riders. It was called the Trailblazer, and the sign proudly announced that it was the first roller coaster built at the amusement park. We filed into line at the first coaster we encountered. Then he asked me if I was looking forward to squeezing into a corset and I elbowed him in the ribs. I told him I would not respond to that line of questioning. That got him moving, because he’d said in the parking lot that those photos were what he was looking forward to the most, so he could dress like a Wild West gunslinger and ask, “Is that a gun, or are you just happy to see me?” “Landry, seriously, let’s move or I’m not doing the old-fashioned photos with you.” “You’re right, you’re not hairy enough to be a bear.” Landry popped his lips out and cocked a hip. “Parents are trying to measure their children.” “Will you get away from there?” I whisper-shouted in a lull of measuring. Of course Landry couldn’t stop giggling at the animal names. Rather than have the kids get measured at each coaster, the sign at the beginning of the line designated which “animals” the ride was appropriate for. The block they measured into let them know which rides they could go on. He held another foot-long Twizzlers, chewing obnoxiously while children sidled up to get measured. The ugly, cheap gas station sunglasses covered his eyes, but I knew they were twinkling behind the black shades. Vertical measurements ran up the side, separated by four blocks-pup, cub, wolf, bear. Landry stood next to a six-foot-tall fiberglass block about double his width.
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