Roller Coasters: the Sequel

Last night I talked about my first trip to Kings Island. Yesterday, as Cecile and I walked up to The Beast, we talked about what it was like when we were in high school. Yes, that dim, long ago time, commonly referred to as "Back Before Dirt". Growing up in the 70's was interesting to say the least. We were stuck between the hippies of the 60's and the capitalists of the 80's. One rite of passage for us that has endured to this day, is the "First Trip To Kings Island Without Your Parents." This most commonly happens the first spring or summer after one obtains their Drivers License and after they have  received the communion of a consecrated english muffin and a sip of tomato juice symbolizing the body and blood of Henry Ford. Teenagers descend upon Kings Island in droves. My first trip as such was May 3, 1980. The day after Junior Prom. The day dawned sunny and warm and my friend, Tom and I traveled down Interstate 74 to Cincinnati. Freedom, wonderful, wonderful, freedom. We were dressed in the height of late 70's teenage style. Cutoff jean shorts and black T-shirts. Preferably, AC/DC or Q-95. The Beast was "The Ride" in 1980. It had opened the year before and was still the tallest, fastest, longest roller coaster in the world. The line stretched all the way to the pond and almost to the Antique Cars. The thing that sticks in my mind the most was the almost total absence of adults over 30. Families seemed to stick to Hanna -Barbera land and Coney Mall and wouldn't go near The Beast. Built to resemble an abandoned mill, it looked intimidating enough. As we wound our was through the queues we could see carved in the wood: Jeff loves Debbie, Sherry loves Troy, Jeff loves Sherry, Debbie loves Troy. and assorted vulgarities that decorum forbids mentioning here. The water that used to stand by the loading station was full floating debris, mainly cigarette butts. And that water smelled........well, bad. But the most prevalent odor was that of cigarette smoke and uh, well, the odor that comes from a certain plant, that when dried and rolled up in paper and burned, induces intoxication. In 1980, it was passed around openly without fear of reprisal. Yesterday, as Cecile and I walked through the queues, surrounded by young children, we talked about how that would never happen now. Too many young children and old fogies (like ourselves). The Beast is no longer young either. Rough around the edges and showing its age in places, it can still rattle your teeth and send you screaming into it's double helix finale.