This post is a warning to anyone planning a trip to Coney Island. Beware The Cyclone.
Pictured below is the satanic structure that I think, has actually fractured my back. You think you'd know for sure if your spine was at all afflicted but I once listened to a police presentation about road accidents and was told of a man who broke his neck after rolling his Volvo down an embankment but he didn't realise for two weeks. So based on that questionable information alone, my back must be fractured...I think.
It looks romantic doesn't it? Brimming with nostalgia. A gentle ride awaits you, whilst in the distance children paddle in the sea's edge, giggling and elderly couples promenade slowly up and down the boardwalk. NAIVE FOOLS. In real life it is held together with masking tape and tramp spittle. Cyclone made Oblivion feel like a speedbump. As it tore round it's rickerty tracks, I could feel my lungs banging together. It probably went as fast as the Oblivion, which considering it was built in 1927, is horrifying. It was as charming as cat AIDS.
To recover, I boarded The Pirate Ship. I think Pirate Ships are like childbirth; as soon as it's over your body must release a hormone that makes you forget how terrible it was and so next time you spot one it's all, "Awesome! Pirate Ship! Let's ride that fibreglass bitch!". My friend kept asking me if it went upside down. I was pretty sure it didn't but as my brain was still vibrating from the Cyclone I couldn't give a simple answer. As soon as we got on though, I remembered Pirate Ships almost go upside down which is somehow worse than a fully committed 180 degree turn. This particular ship was also being operated by an actual pirate who was laughing to himself and swaying a lot. I closed my eyes for the entire ride as I was certain all the momentum we were building was simply to slingshot us into the Atlantic where we would forever ride the seas as his damned crew.
What? I am not a pussy!
Images of the spine-doomer: www.richiefahey.com