X
Foremost is my first trip on Revolution (-1), the very first "upside-down" coaster I ever went on. I still remember heading down that oh-so-gentle grade heading into the loop, as the train gradually, almost hesistantly continued to pick up speed. Rumble rumble rumble, and all I was thinking was this thing better start going faster real soon. But it was too late, and we hit the loop. With my fists clenched, white-knuckled on the lapbar, the world flipped around, my stomach sank to my feet, and for just a moment, nothing else in the world existed. Sounds were blocked out, and none of the sights I was seeing made any sense. Just me, this nagging sinking feeling, and some strange mix of terror and exhiliration. And of course, just as soon as it started, there we were, right side up, going speeding into the woods again. And of course, as soon as I got out of the station, I immediately looked way up at my grandpa (who I now look way down at), and said "Let's go again!"
I also have a memory of riding Colossus (+1) from the back, at night, way way back when Colossus was new, and the biggest, baddest, most impressively terrifying monstrosity to ever be let loose upon the public. I remember getting off the train, shaken and giggly, and telling grandpa about the trip, saying "The back wheels came off the track!" See, from the back, going down that first humongous drop, I distinctly remembered feeling that just for a second, the train back there stopped rumbling, and just sort of "floated" for a moment. Of course, years later, I realized what a ridiculous statement that had been. Wheels don't come off the track. That would be absurd. People would die. But then even more years later, once I got heavily into coasters and studied how they actually work, I realized that I was right the first time, dammit! The wheels did come off the track, with nothing but the upstop wheels under the track to keep us from flying off that giant mountain of lumber. I was right! I knew what had happened, even as a seven-year-old! Then the significance of that moment dawned on me: that was my very first moment of airtime! Obviously, the saying is right: "You never forget your first."
Anyway, fast-forward to 20-some-odd years later, and the picture of a large jetliner full of fuel and passengers slamming into a really tall building, and then the picture of that building (and the girl next door) falling to the ground. As you can imagine, everyone is really bummed out. People walking around with stunned, dazed looks on their faces, speaking with nervous, shaky voices, living in fear, talking about the end of the world. Not good. But the newsman said that the president said we have to go on and live our lives.
So, five days after September 11 (September 16), I went on with my life the best way I knew how, and headed on out to Magic Mountain. Colossus was still there, a shadow of her former self, but still standing proudly, and now with a giant American flag adorning her first turnaround. Turnout was very light that day. Deja Vu (+2.5) had just opened, but that was the only ride that there was any wait for, and even that was under an hour. Everything else was within 15 minutes of being a walk-on. That was the day I took this picture. Well, I didn't take it, but I bought it, and that's what counts. But the real interesting part of this story was that that was the last time I'd been on a roller coaster until this past weekend (1/26/2002). [Ed. note: That's not exactly true. He went on Speed: The Ride (+3.5) when he was in Vegas last October.] Okay, that's true. But it's such a short ride, let's just forget that part.
Now, before I go on with my trip report (which, technically, I haven't even started yet), let me clear up a possible misconception. What with all the above flowery prose about bygone days and misty watercolored memories, you might be getting the idea that I consider Magic Mountain one of my favorite places on Earth, a place that can provide comfort when I'm in need, and brighten even the darkest of days. Well, that is wrong. As far as amusement parks go, I now consider Magic Mountain the absolute toilet of the universe. Everything that is bad about big-market, big-corporate theme parks is thoroughly epitomized by this place. Loud, foul-mouthed clientelle. Slow, careless employees. Idiotic rules and regulations. Those goddamned basketballs they give out to everyone. I would never take a child there these days, as it might scar them for life. I wouldn't even take myself there, except it happens to be the closest park, and they do have a heck of a lot of coasters.
But even that isn't the gold-star-on-the-forehead that it should be, because while there is surely an abundance of coasters, the truth is that most of them suck. There are two woodies, which both share parts of the "disappointing" spectrum, a mine train, an old, painful Arrow looper, one which I've never seen actually operating, and of course the aforementioned Revolution, the trains on which have been modified and "safety-ized" so much that it has become one of the most physically painful rides I've ever ridden. So, really, what do we have left? A Batman (+3.5) clone, a very nice stand-up B&M in Riddler's Revenge (+4), the new, gimmicky Deja Vu, the pseudo-hyperish Goliath (+3.5), and now the highly anticipated X. I think, with the addition of Deja Vu and X, this is the first year that you can honestly say there's a decent selection of enjoyable coasters at Magic Mountain. But compare this with Six Flags Ohio (or whatever it's called now), which has at least three outstanding coasters, and a number of good ones besides. Magic Mountain sucks!
I'm getting away from myself here. I better get on with the trip report soon, or even I will stop reading this.
I went on a Saturday, which as we all know, is definitely not the day of the week that you want to go to an amusement park. Except one of the very nice things about living out here is that these places are open all year round, so I expected that a Saturday during January would not be like a Saturday in July. And as I pulled into the close parking lot (as opposed to the far one, or the really far one), I decided I was exactly right.
The first order of business was to get my 2002 season pass. There have been several changes to the season pass procedure this year. The first noticeable change was that it costs $10 more. I wasn't thrilled about that, but hey, $10 is nothing if you're going to visit Six Flags parks 10-20 times throughout the year.
Now, the way it used to be was, you'd go into the Season Pass Processing Center (SPPC), they would give you a form, you would fill it out, get your picture taken, and get your pass. But due to the improved, streamlined process, there is now a guy standing outside the SPPC telling you that to get your form, you need to walk over there to the Concert Ticket Booth (CTB). I said, "Uh, okay," and walked over to the CTB, where I was handed a form, and instructed (by way of the friendly man in the window pointing over my shoulder) to go back over to the SPPC, where I was then told to fill out the form. I was glad to see the extra $10 was really being put to good use!
But more changes were in store. What you used to do with the form was, you would fill it out. For instance, where it asked you what your name was, you would write in the space provided: "BEN PARRISH" (or your own name, if it's different). I thought this was a pretty decent system, so I was surprised to see that they've even improved and streamlined this process. Now, instead of writing your answer in the box, you get to write your answer in the box, and fill in little "standardized test" bubbles for each letter and number! I swear this is true. I interrupted one of the helpful employees' discussion on how "fucking hot" the Viper ride-op is (this is with another family in the room -- nice job, Six Flags!) to ask the following question: "I don't really have to fill out all these bubbles, do I?" The helpful employees' helpful response? "Yes, you have to fill out all the bubbles."
So what used to be a frustrating, tedious five-minute process has now been improved to the point where it is now a frustrating, tedious 25 minute process. And they had all year to come up with this.
Anyway, finally, with shiny new $90 pass in hand, I went to the gates to be let in. I figured, this would be a snap, since I went through all trouble to fill in the bubbles, and now the computer would have all my info instantly at the ready. Dude takes my pass, swipes it through the machine, and the machine goes: "BOOO-eeee-EEEE-oooo!" Dude giggles nervously, and then asks one of the nearby slugs, "What do I do when it makes that sound?" With all these computerized procedures and automated whatzihoozits, I figured that the solution to this problem was going to be very technically involved and complicated. A technician then jumped over to dude's aid and saved the day with the following problem resolution: "Write the number down in the notebook."
I thought we were out of the woods there, when dude started yelping to the other slugs, "Anybody got a pen? Heh? Hehehe? A pen?" Nobody had a pen. Finally, somebody from a gate twenty feet away had a pen, and chucked it through the air towards our dude. Six Flags slugs are not known for their throwing ability, though, as the pen landed about ten feet short, underneath another turnstyle. So now there's a congregation of Six Flags Employees (TM) crouching under the turnstyle trying to get a pen so the guy can write my pass number which I just spent twenty minutes filling out little 1970's-era bubbles for, onto a piece of frigging paper.
It's no wonder they're charging more. They need to hire all those extra people to find pens that have been thrown underneath turnstyles. Jesus God. What a place. Magic Mountain SUCKS!!! Whew, I need to stop doing that.
In other news, it looks like my personally favorite trend is continuing, as the teenage girls (even in January) continue to dress sluttier and sluttier, and get younger and younger. The new "hip-hugger" trend is still in full effect, although some of them are getting awfully close to "thigh-huggers". In some countries, I think I'd probably be legally forced to marry a few of these girls just by standing next to them in line. Yes, Magic Mountain, where you can take your kids to see gaggles of black and Mexican kids telling each other to fuck themselves, and snatch. Thanks again, Six Flags! I should mention that this is not what theme parks are supposed to be about. Go to Knott's Berry Farm, for example, which is a big place, but is still clean, relatively family-friendly, relatively well-controlled, and people are smiling and happy. Or go to one of your smaller parks, which are filled with kids and moms and dads just having the time of their life, in a G-rated movie come to life. Not some Boyz In Da Hood crap like you have going on at Magic Mountain (or almost any Six Flags park, now that I think of it.) Disgusting. It's just too damn bad they have all the money, and all the rides.
Alright, I think I've made my point about Magic Mountain. (Let's recap, though: Magic Mountain sucks!) Once inside the park, I had a choice. I hadn't been on a coaster since last September [Ed. note: October]. So, did I want to go straight to X, or kind of "ease back into it" with another, less intimidating ride? While I pondered my decision, I walked my way towards X, and by the time I was there, I had decided to do something else instead, but it was too late, as I was already in line...
X (+5) - I forgot to put on my watch before I left the apartment, so I'm not sure exactly how long the line was, but I think it was right around two hours. This was bad enough, but Six Flags, greedy rat-bastard whores that they are, had decided to implement the infamous "Fast-Pass" (or "Fast-Lane", or whatever stupid name it's called) system on X. The way this works is, you pay 'em $15 or so up front, and then you get to use the "special" line, and bypass the "loser" line that all the other schleppers (yours truly included) have to slog through. I'm still not sure where I come down on this Fast-Pass issue. On the one hand, it's only to make those money-sucking leeches more scratch. On the other hand, I think it would be cool to be able to get on rides fast whenever I wanted to. But in either case, I think it's important to design the queues so that the Fast-Pass line is completely separate from the regular line. This is because, even as level-headed and rational as I am, after about the first hour and a half of watching these smug assholes hop and skip their way around to the front of the line, even I started to get a little resentful. The system might not be so bad, but Jesus, don't let me see them.
For a two-hour wait, though, it wasn't that bad. First of all, the queue line winds right underneath Viper's (+1) "butterfly" inversion, so every minute or two, at least you could look up and see the screaming heads of Viper riders banging back and forth on the head restraints (don't get me started). Having X right next to Viper I think provides quite a nice, almost quaint, contrast. Viper is the virtually canonical vision of Arrow Dynamic's glory days gone by. And right next to it, shining rosy and golden in the California sun, is X, Arrow's one last hope for a rebirth.
Also, the babe in front of me had it all going on, which was at times fun, at times frustrating, but always distracting, which is good when you're in a line that long.
One thing about the X line, though, was that it was awfully darned quiet. I don't think I can remember a line that packed, but still that chatter-free. Treated to the constant site of riders going up the lift hill and then being thrown straight down to the ground, and hearing their screams, the folks seemed a tad... pensive. Not me, though. I was cool as a cucumber. This was due partly to the fact that it was about 50 degrees, and I was the only one in the entire park wearing shorts and a short-sleeved shirt. Idiot. But I was cool. I was suave. I was yawning and everything. I was even checking my watch (which wasn't there.) I was Mr. Pro Coaster Rider.
Right up until the point I got in the train.
It was around the time I was climbing into the train, facing backwards, and threading my arms through this strange new restraint contraption that it finally dawned on me: I have no idea what this is going to be like.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with the story behind X, let me quickly fill you in. It is dubbed the world's first "fourth dimension" coaster. Unlike a normal coaster, the cars themselves are not situated on the track itself, but instead to either side of the track. The only thing actually on the track itself is a bunch of wheels and stuff. So, the rider sits in these "sidehacker" cars, with no track above or below them, which is certainly nice for the view. The things is, though, the cars have been engineered and programmed to rotate. For instance, you might be cruising along straight ahead and forward, and the seat could flip over, so now you're upside down and looking backwards. That's the "fourth dimension" they're talking about. And it's never been done before. So no matter how many coasters you've been on, you have no idea what this is going to be like.
As I left the station, the chairs rotated us so we were lying flat on our backs, looking up at the sky as the train meandered its way around to the lift hill. Watching this from the queue line, I thought, "Hey, that looks kinda relaxing!" Turns out, though, it's really not all that relaxing at all. I'm starting to get adrenaline shakes just writing about it.
We then came to the lift hill. Keep in mind, we're still facing the other way. So we ascend the lift hill, our chairs rotated into a semi-reclined state, on our backs. This provides the most breathtaking view of the park that you can imagine. The seats themselves are exquisitely comfortable, so for a moment it felt like I was just sitting in a Laz-E-Boy, rising up in a balloon or something, enjoying the sights. Then the stark realization hit me that at some point we would hit the top of the lift hill. Which we then did.
The top of the lift hill looks a little like a smoothed-out, curvy "M". You don't immediately go into the drop, but instead head into a little dip to get the train off the lift chain and pick up a little speed. From the train itself, all you feel is things are starting to happen, and you're on your back again, but now you're dropping a little, and things are starting to happen. Funny, turns out lying on your back is not the position which provides one with the highest degree of security and confidence.
This was one of the scariest moments I've ever had on any roller coaster ever. That abject, unmitigated feeling of helplessness just acted as a pinch or two of salt to sharpen up the already pulsating fear coursing through every fiber. And we haven't even hit the drop y-
A real interesting thing happens right before the drop. As the train crests the second hump in the "M", the seats suddenly flip forward, and now, somehow, we are face down, as we enter the drop. The drop on X is approximately 88 degrees. Let's just go ahead and call it straight down. One second you're relaxing in your recliner. Now you're free-falling face-down into the dirt.
But we don't quite make it there, as before we hit the bottom, we once again are turned on our backs for the next element. There's quite a number of G's being pulled right here, but given that you're staring up at the sky again, the force feels intuitively like acceleration, as if you're on an F-14 being launched from the carrier deck. At this point, the concept of acceleration is not in your top five list of good ideas. Then you enter the first "Raven turn", a new type of element. You have to picture this in your mind. Picture the first half of a big loop, except you're still riding through the loop on your back, on the inside of the loop, headfirst, so you are getting a big old faceful of the inside of the loop, and the ground rushing away from you as fast as it can. This is... unreal.
Other than checking to make sure my keys were still in my shorts, I don't remember a whole hell of a lot of the rest of the ride after this. Watching from the sidelines, I noticed a few parts of the ride that seemed a little slow and tame. But from the train itself, there is no such animal. Total disorientation, total helplessness, total sensory overload, from beginning to end.
X was supposed to open nearly a year ago at this time. But it ran into delays. And then more delays. And then once they tested it, there were problems. And more problems. And the cars had to be redesigned, and the track needed work, and the testers who rode it said it was like repeatedly banging your head against a wall. This was Arrow's one chance to become a big player in the coaster world once again, and it was blowing up in their faces; overdue, overbudget... a disaster. And a disaster out there for all the world to see, as it's about ten feet from the road as you enter the park. What earlier was an exciting, weird-looking promise of things to come, eventually became an eyesore, and a constant reminder of failure and disappointment. X finally did open right before Christmas. Normally I would have been there opening night. But I was so sick of looking at it and hearing about all the things that had gone wrong, I just couldn't get re-enthused about it.
After I got off the train, shaken and stirred and with a goofy look on my face, I ran right around to just look at the ride again from a wide view. And all of a sudden, it looked great again.
I even bought a hat.
I will always hold a special place in my heart for Six Flags Magic Mountain. Every summer as a child, I would take a trip out here to southern California to spend a month with my grandparents, and the highlight of every trip was always the pilgrimage to Magic Mountain. The memories of those trips are a little hard to come by these days, but those that do work their way out of their hiding places are always quite vivid. Two in particular are coming to mind right now.
