Otheron made me do it. I'm not a roller coaster fan and had no intention of trying out the newly reconfigured Hades 360˚ at Mt. Olympus Water & Theme Parks in Wisconsin Dells. The original Hades was crazy enough, shooting you underground, in the dark, at speeds up to 70 miles per hour. Now, after a bit of reconstructive surgery, the beast spirals you upside down along the way, too. No way was I getting on that thing. But then I bumped into 10-year-old Otheron Reed.
Otheron was standing near my daughter, Maura, waiting to try out Hades. I was simply in line to keep Maura company. Otheron admitted he was nervous about his pending ride. "I'm scared about the noise, and I think it'll break when I'm on it," he said softly. Yet he calmly remained in line, awaiting his fate.
Me, I wasn't even going to ride, yet my heart was pounding and my palms were sweaty.
Suddenly the gates swung open, revealing a shiny, red coaster sporting a line of empty seats. I scrambled across the nearest car and flung myself onto the dismounting platform on the far side, afraid the coaster would somehow ensnare me if I tarried too long. Moments later Maura and Otheron vanished with a thunderous clatter, leaving behind a fading trail of high-pitched screams.
Before I had time to slow my pounding heart, Hades was back, zooming to a screeching halt in front of me. The ride had taken 2 minutes and 11 seconds. I scanned the cars for Otheron. There he was, slowly climbing out. He wasn't smiling, but he wasn't crying, either.
"How was it?" I asked.
"It was cool," he said thoughtfully, "but it hurt my rib a little when we went upside down."
I was so touched by Otheron's bravery that I wanted to give him a hug. Instead, I gritted my teeth and waved Maura back in line. "I changed my mind," I said. "I'm going on."