The first thing I did when I went to Coney Island on Saturday was ride the Cyclone. It was fun. Not as good as the wooden coasters at Hershey Park (which were designed by modern ride wizards), but fun nonetheless. You know what wasn’t fun about it? The whiner babies from the New York Film Academy who were on that (and ever other) ride that day.
Can someone explain to me how a small wooden coaster is the scariest thing on Earth? Can someone explain to me how an affluent kid in his late teens has never been on a roller coaster before? Can someone explain to me how said affluent kid who is supposed to be in a film program, which means he’s supposed to be somewhat observant about the world around him, had to ask “Does this go upside down?” as he boarded the ride? Can someone explain why not a single one of these film school kids had any kind of chill factor when it came to lame carnival thrill rides? Like, I get the snarky response is “they’re film school pussies,” but I am someone who used to write melodramatic sonnets in high school and I minored in Classical Studies. I have been rocking roller coasters since I was seven. How has an entire generation of kids been so pussified?
I am so not worried about America’s youth staging riots. America’s youth can’t even handle a fucking roller coaster.