jumping the gun, vertigo, looking down off the edge of a cliff and the mind reeling, the imagination running, and the head time travels and visions of falling twirling pinwheeling through the sky to doom and destruction flood the vision, with feet planted firmly on the ground. standing still, sitting down in the cloverleaf, a drop approaching, the stomach left on the 3rd floor, the drop, the removal of the bottom, with no end, no visible stopping point, no easy way out, no trap door escape hatch get out of jail card. nada. a roller coaster someone else designed, and knows all the dips and turns and inside out loop de loops, hills and valleys, and exactly what it is that will exhilarate, that will excite, and get the blood pumping with wind through the hair, hands in the air, screams escaping from lungs pushed aside as your guts jump up into your chest, and just waiting in line. waiting. you see someone else go up the hill, the chik-chik-chik of the chain dragging the ball bearing enhanced carts of adrenaline junkies. and you're still waiting in line, watching it happen. knowing what happens when you get on.