Summer vacation took me many places, but strapped to a chair launched 200 feet up in the air was not an expected one. As I was suddenly shot streaking up, I wished I could go back in time and reconsider my whole day.
  

  I had been in Anchorage, Alaska for about a week at that point, visiting my uncle David and his girlfriend, Amanda. That morning, we had set out quite early to go to the Alaska State Fair, a quite heavily attended event. There were vast amounts of stalls and people selling various wares throughout the sizable fair, and no one was quite sure where to go first. As we made our way through the crowded events, we saw jousting, hot tubs the size of my bedroom for sale, and precariously perched acrobats, among countless other odd things. Eventually, our group split up, and I went off with my dad to explore. We were drawn to the sound of loud screaming in the distance. We came upon a metal structure standing about 200 feet tall, held up by a series of rust metal poles. There was a two-person chair attached to a bungee cord which connected to the top of the structure. As we watched, a young couple got in the chair, were strapped in by staff, and the person who seemed to be running the place yanked down a rickety lever without warning. In an instant, the poor unsuspecting couple was shot into the air, bouncing up and down again and again on the questionably stable system. My dad asked me if I would like to do the bungee chair with him. I gulped, trying to figure out the best way to express my anxiety for the safety of such a thing, and finally decided that “I would think about it.” I eventually decided to go ahead and do it, convincing myself with the flawless philosophy, “nothing’s killed me yet.”

We bought our tickets and waited in the relatively short line for our turn. The group who went before me was a man and someone who looked like his brother. They were being strapped into the chair (which had at least five seatbelts per person) when I looked over at them. As they were raised into the air before launch, one of the two noticed that the largest seatbelt, the one that seemed to hold all the others together had not been fastened. He quickly called this to attention and the staff member responsible fixed it. This naturally boosted my confidence in the system. Before I knew it, their screaming had finished, and it was my turn. I was quickly strapped into the chair and prepared for launch.

The first part was a blur. Flung straight up, I felt like I would never stop flying upwards. Then, our ascent began to slow, and I felt the beginning of a terrifying plunge. The wind whipped past my face as I accelerated, but I was going to fast even to scream. I think that at one point I tried to but the breath got knocked out of me as we bounced up again. With white knuckles I gripped the bars on either side of the chair. About after the first two seemingly unsurvivable bounces, my new and expensive glasses began to fall off my face. I tried to make myself push them back on, but then we plunged down again uncomfortably close to the ground. As we shot up, my glasses flew much higher than the chair went, and landed somewhere beneath us. Why couldn’t I have just left them on the ground? I thought, before once again interrupted by a plunge. From then on, it was relatively easy sailing, as the bounces slowed. My glasses were intact and retrieved by a staff member, handed to me as I stepped shaking away from the dreaded chair. It was definitely quite the fun and unexpected trip, but one I most certainly don’t plan on taking again any time soon.