I am not the kind of guy who holds up his hands on a roller coaster.  In fact, I’m just the opposite.  I hold on so tight, I leave fingerprints in the steel.  How do I know that flimsy restraint bar is going to hold me in?  Machines break every day, right?  I take no chances.

My friend, Tyler, on the other hand, is a lunatic.  He is “hands up” all the way.  That’s fine, unless, of course I’m riding next to him.   I learned this lesson the hard way last month when we spent the day with some friends at an amusement park.

We rode coasters together five or six times that day, and every time it was the same story.  Whenever the roller coaster banked on a curve, Mr. Hands-Up-In-the-Air turned into a human projectile and slammed into me like a sand bag.  Not just once but dozens of times.  It was like riding next to a 190 pound crash test dummy.

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