Remember a few weeks ago I wrote about my favourite coaster? Well today I’m going to share another of my personal ride experiences with you, this one ever so slightly less positive.
Allow me to set the scene for you.
In his infinite wisdom my father had decided that a family holiday to Croatia was in order. Yes, Croatia. I have literally no idea what possessed him to take us to a country I swear was the inspiration for Dante’s Inferno. A country that had been locked in a bloody war so recently I swear I saw bullet holes in the hotel, but hey, I guess it was cheap.
I would love to say the hotel had the air of a building that had once been great and had entered a kind of genteel decay, but it was just decayed. Hot water only came if the taps were in the mood to provide it, food was simply horrific, there was not a decent pizza or coffee to be found in the entire place.
Perhaps sensing that I was somewhat disappointed with Croatia (but by no means ungrateful) my father took me to what appeared to be a cross between a fun fair and an actual theme park. Some seriously shady looking coasters rattled along their disconcertingly rickety tracks. Swarthy men beckoned us towards various unwinnable games of chance. It was night-time, so the whole place was lit with a combination of builder’s spotlights and fairy-lights attached to every available surface.
The centrepiece of this distinctly ghetto theme park was a “bungee catapult”. This consisted of a large spherical cage with two seats inside, a great deal of strapping, what appeared to be two cranes and two massive bungee cords. The cage was attached to the cords and cranes, stretched downwards and attached to a massive hook. I was ushered into the sphere, strapped down like some kind of mental patient and there I sat, waiting.
As I waited to be flung skywards I looked to my right, the bungee cords were frayed….badly. I waited for a moment, thought about saying something and eventually summoned up the courage to point out the obvious safety flaw to the ride’s attendant. It quickly became apparent that he didn’t speak English and took my pointing at the cord to be excitement. After a “reassuring” toothless smile and a thumbs up from the blissfully ignorant attendant I was released and flung upwards with what felt like 100G’s pressing against my chest.
While bouncing I realised that I was in fact on a beach, should the cords have snapped I would have been pitched into the sea in the dead of night with not a coast guard in sight. My worries quickly disappeared as a monumental adrenaline rush flooded my bloodstream. Despite the huge safety issues the whole experience was actually quite a lot of fun. I’d not recommend it, but it was certainly a buzz.
Oh and what did my father (who incidentally didn’t join me on the ride) have to say when I eventually stopped vibrating and told him about the bungee…..”you’re alive aren’t you? Stop being a poofter”……it’s a miracle I ended up so well adjusted…
