My footsteps sounded loud, even with the roar of the crowd in my ears, but my mind was louder: Do it! I climbed in, the black Styrofoam of the harness soft beneath my fingertips, the seat cool. "Well, this is it," I said, or words to that effect. We were at the front, and the song had finished and banished itself from my brain. She's got a ticket to ride, but she don't care! We waited there, on the last outpost before the savage wilderness, carrying on conversation of varying volume and frequency, as the line shortened. The grass was sheared and covered by cement around the line and entrance, but farther on, where the great steel tendrils dipped into the ground and the air, the green was thick and bright, like a jungle with a python, a undersea garden containing a giant squid. We climbed the steps, my stomach light-headed. I could see the cars pulling into the entrance, swinging, suspended under the track like a beginner's Raptor.
It was paint and steel, foreboding, yet comparatively small. We ran and talked and swerved around the people, leaving a Family Circus trail of footsteps and exited conversation, each of us nervous and optimistic about what was to come. I could still hear the song as we walked towards the Iron Dragon, past the crowds of people at arcades, the noise and the sun and the air combining and swirling around us, incomprehensible, yet clear as polar shadow. She oughta think twice, she oughta do right by me.
She oughta think twice, she oughta do right by me All, as the responsible adults we were, were determined. None of us had ridden a roller coaster before. We exchanged greetings, and he introduced me to Ian Mikusko, a brown-haired, medium-tall guy with whom I had spent an hour of detention. Pushing, squeezing, and propelling myself in various ways, I managed to get there. Toby went one way, to join the adventurous ones who would ride the big 'coasters, and I went the other, making my way towards Andrew Vreede, whose golden-topped head hovered, UFO-esque, over the 7th-grade crowd. "And that's the Mantis, and the Magnum, and the Blue Streak," I heard Toby proclaim, explaining the sights to his rollercoaster-wary friend. The day was warm, and I settled back.Īnd leaned forward, for there it was - I could see the hazy tips of the Cedar Point rollercoasters in the distance, barely protruding over the trees. I hardly notice the lyrics - I had never really cared about them - but they complimented the tune and the murmur of the syllables seemed to produce a half-meditative feel. It wasn't that I imagined the Beatles in concert I simply seemed to hear the song more clearly, with more depth. In a way, my mind invited more realism in its imaginary corridors than the real recordings did, reverberating across the very tangible walls of my room. A genuinely cool song, of course, but now it was stuck in my head. Bright like harpsichord, like guitar riffs - I could almost hear them.
TICKET TO RIDE LYRICS RIVERDALE FULL
The day was bright I imagined the sun, behind the atmosphere, behind the moon and two planets, blazing its light across 93 million miles of interplanetary space, through the window, to my face.īright - my mind was wandering, I knew it was aware of Toby's conversation, but not paying full attention. His eyes were focused distractedly on the receding towers of the nuclear power plant, dimly visible through the schoolbus window, and he turned and laughed we entered into a stimulating discussion about all of the interesting things that radiation can do to the human body as the heat-soaked asphalt flew by. "In more ways than one!" The carefully phrased punchline sped at 700 miles per hour from my vocal cords to the ears of Toby Singer. I laid back onto the warmth of the carpet. The bright gleam of a CD caught my eye and I looked at the silver circle, ran my fingers over it, watched as the tiny points of information seemed to reflect the afternoon sun to my eyes in a million flecks of color. I could almost feel the breeze on my skin, touch the sun-filled air, but I needed more, a trigger, something to shuffle through my brain's messy files. I could remember it being cool, though it was at least a start.
The comforting walls of my room should have relaxed me, but the deadline was still a weight on my mind. Sure, the main events, the big trips, the vague outline of what I could write was there, tucked neatly away in the corners of my conscious mind, but that was it, all, the total.
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