In Transit by Dianna E. Anderson

Author:Dianna E. Anderson [Dianna E. Anderson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Broadleaf Books

6

QUEER POSSIBILITIES, QUEER JOY

The right to make my dreams come true

I ask, nay, I demand of life,

Nor shall fate’s deadly contraband

Impede my steps, nor countermand.

Too long my heart against the ground

Has beat the dusty years around,

And now, at length, I rise, I wake!

And stride into the morning break!

—Georgia Douglas Johnson, “Calling Dreams”

My parents took us three kids to Disney World twice when we were younger, both times over Christmas break. My parents were very clear that the trip itself was our Christmas present, but there was always some kind of small present for us on Christmas morning. Being a young kid, this was my first experience with a major theme park and actual roller coasters, not the tiny county-fair kind that went around in an oval that was slightly sloped. On the first trip, in 1995, my mom took a seat on a bench outside Space Mountain and wished us luck as my two brothers, my dad, and I hopped into line. As a nine-year-old, I was already a smart little kid, but I somehow didn’t connect that the roller-coaster cars that darted out of a hole in the ceiling and quickly disappeared again above the crowd were the ride we were about to get on. At that age, I was deathly afraid of heights, and yet, somehow, I still happily slid into the seat behind my dad, buckled in for safety.

I only have glimpses of memory once the ride started moving. I remember screaming and crying and the realization that we were flying at the height of a tall building. We zoomed through dark tunnels, never having a real idea of what was coming next. The ride couldn’t have lasted more than a couple minutes, but I was almost inconsolable at the end of it. I grabbed ahold of my mom as soon as we reconnected, and she wiped away my tears and calmed my panic. For the next two hours, we didn’t go on any rides but instead met characters and bought souvenirs, experiencing Disney beyond the rides. Soon, my tears from that morning were forgotten, and by the time we found ourselves in Frontier Land, I was back to begging to go on rides again, eyeing the line for Thunder Mountain Railroad, which I’d seen on videotapes my parents had gotten to learn more about vacation packages for Disney (it was the ’90s, OK?).

The rest of those trips remained tear-free, despite at least one instance of me getting so exhausted from excitement that I nearly threw up on the monorail as we rode back to our hotel for the night. I learned to be more OK with roller coasters and trying new things. I was a naturally anxious kid, but I also wanted to show bravery in exploring new experiences like my brother Marc, who eagerly hopped into the line for the Tower of Terror by himself and came back out raving about how exciting it was to see the doors open seconds before the mechanism let go and you dropped straight down for several stories.

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