After riding the Lewis and Clark ride at least 7 or 8 times, we decided to move on to a larger, potentially more exciting ride. The “Screamin’ Eagle” was more than a step up from Lewis and Clark. Essentially a circle of people facing inward, you would sit in the seat, legs dangling freely in the air, and the circle swings back and forth, spinning like crazy. Brock and I arrived just in time to join the next ride. As we approached the ride, one of the ride workers said to the other, “Yeah, I’m not sure if they’ll fit.”
Now Brock and myself are not small guys, but surely we could fit on this ride. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, we decided that he surely meant that the seats were all full, however after looking around and seeing plenty of open seats, the meaning of the man’s words became clear. “Alright, let’s give it a shot.” Said the other worker. With the eyes of all the other riders upon us, we attempted to get in our seats, which seemed to be just a few inches too high off the ground. With a slight jump, we made it in the seats, surprised by the narrowness of them and the giant crotch post seemingly taking up half of the seat. With my arms folded in very uncomfortably and the crotch post hurting, I plastered a smile on my face. I was going to go on this ride whether I would like it or not. My personal comfort came second to the humiliation I was sure to receive for not fitting on the ride.
As my awkward position became somewhat tolerable, the worker announced that the overhead vests were going to lock in place. There was a light above each seat, notifying from a distance any vests that were unlocked. Essentially a life jacket going over our shoulders, these would lock us into the seats, though I was already locked in place, even without these vests. As the vest slammed down, I quickly realized that they are designed to come into direct contact with the crotch posts. The problem was that there was a certain very sensitive area of myself in the way. The vests stopped, but the lights above our seats shone bright as if to proclaim to the world, “Yeah they don’t fit!” In an attempt to lock the vests, one of the workers began to slam them closed. This worked well for Brock, who was locked in and ready to go. For me though, I was still in the way of the vest and the crotch post and due to being extremely cramped and my inability to touch the ground, I was unable to change my position. Each slam from the worker brought more and more pain. I was going to ride this ride no matter what the cost. After several failed attempts to lock it in place, the worker turned to his fellow worker, asking, “You wanna give it a go?” Rolling up his sleeves, the man responded in a deep voice, “Yeah!” Even with his running start, the second worker was unable to get my light to turn off and my vest remained unlocked. After several more attempts and several more painful slams, he resolved, “Sorry, you’re just not gonna fit.” I was mortified. I was too large to fit on the Screamin’ Eagle. Being a good friend, Brock decided that he wouldn’t go on the ride either. I jumped out of the seat and took my walk of shame off the ride, the faces of all the other riders upon me, looking very impatient.