Please remain seated with your arms and legs inside the vehicle . . .

In the process of working on my book, I've been thinking about the most adrenaline pumping, scream inducing, and downright pants-wetting attractions at Walt Disney World. Yes, I realize that's not exactly what you think about when you first think Walt Disney World. Those types of rides generally fall under the Seven Pennants category.

But as WDW fans, we know that every now and then you turn a corner in a Disney park and they pull a surprise out of their trick bag. Tower of Terror for one example playing on every one's fear, not so much of falling of course as their fear of landing, hard and uncontrollably fast on concrete and asphalt, surrounded by a steel cushion. That would suck.

For a long time I thought certain that Tower had to be scariest attraction in all of Walt Disney World. Although I've also often felt Dinosaur at Disney's Animal Kingdom could definitely rival the fear factor. Even being a man in his mid-thirties of reasonable intelligence and experience in this world, somehow once I find myself transported to the forest primeval, I have a hard time convincing my brain that those hungry carnivorous lizards with fangs as long as a baby's arm aren't real . . . or that they aren't really chasing me.

"Get off my Kool-Aid!"

But it was recent trip down to the World, and once again inside the Animal Kingdom that convinced me that I was wrong about what is probably the most horrifying experience to be had at Walt Disney World. No, I'm not talking about a live performance by Justin Bieber on the castle steps. Yes that is nightmarish, but hopefully was a only a one-off! I'm talking about the one and only, hellishly terrifying Expedition: Everest! At least it was to be this day . . .

"Quaint little village. What could possibly go wrong?"

I arrived at Disney’s Animal Kingdom park shortly after noon. The crowds seemed pretty light as I managed to clear the gates with no wait. I didn’t need the signs directing the way to Asia. I knew where I was headed. I made a beeline straight for the snow capped mountain on the Eastern horizon. Upon approaching the stand-by line the wait said 20 minutes, which given the immense popularity of this attraction seemed like nothing. And nothing was right, for in truth there was little wait at all. I was through the outdoor queue and the Yeti museum in about 5 minutes. Sooner than anticipated I found myself boarding that tea train to traverse the forbidden mountain..

  My car was near the front of the train. Normally a coveted spot for thrill seekers, but not this particular adventurer. I prefer the back. You get more speed, less lag, and you get a full-picture view of all the little extras hidden along this ride. It also provides you an extra second or two to spy the Yeti himself. But it was the front of the train today. I was seated next to a woman a bit older than me who I learned quickly didn’t habla much English. Her preteen kids sat in front of us. We all smiled and nodded, ready for adventure. None of us knew the extra dose of unplanned peril that awaited us on the mountain.  

The train pulled away from the station and made the customary wrap-around that begins the ride. Soon we were on an incline, climbing higher towards the mountain’s peak. I was enthralled taking mental notes of the artwork and props in the temple as we climbed onward and upward. I was oblivious to how high we already were, or to the fact that we seemed to be slowing down. At the highest point of the climb it almost felt like I was staring straight up into the heavens. An exhilarating feeling since I knew soon enough we’d have to come back down. However, I never considered any other way to the bottom again except the way the Imagineers had conceived, down the ride itself. Until without warning as we reached the highest point of the incline, our train came to a jerking halt.

         “That’s not good,” I said aloud.   

My partner for the trip looked over at me with a look of confusion and a nervous smile. My eyes met hers, and then past her concerned face to the view of the entire park beyond. We were indeed high. Very, very high. The track reaches 112 feet into the sky. I am 6 feet tall. So I’m guessing at the point my eyeballs were about 117 feet over Florida. And there was nothing around me but steel roller coaster car, a flimsy lap bar, and a breeze. I turned to my left and was pretty sure I could see Pensacola. I wouldn’t say I’m ‘afraid of heights’ but then again, I rarely find myself that high with so little airplane surrounding me. I started to feel, well, uneasy to say the least. We sat there for another 30, maybe 45 seconds. An announcement was made to remain seated. Where the hell did they think we were gonna go?!?! I wasn’t really thinking about hopping out to grab a churro!

Then I made a crucial mistake. Just like in every disaster movie where unlucky characters find themselves in a precarious position high above the nearest patch of land. There’s always some chisel-jawed, blue-eyed gutsy adventurer who winks "whatever you do, don’t look down." And of course, there’s always that idiot that immediately does just that.  

In this instance, the idiot was me. I looked down below us, as best I could. Over the side of the car, through the tracks where I saw another train far below that was just beginning the ride. That one squealed to a stop as well. This is really not good, I thought.

            At least those people could easily climb out of their cars and jump the 4, maybe 5 feet to safety. Suddenly I was reminded of a recent news story. At least I think it was news. It’s possible I blacked out from the reduced oxygen at this altitude and had a very brief and specific nightmare. But I was certain that in the last year I’d read of Expedition: Everest breaking down and guests having to be harnessed to maintenance workers and walked down the service stairs. I glanced over the edge of the tracks at what apparently passes for service stairs in Reedy Creek.

           Just naked, steel steps, complete with holes to see your impending pizza-fication below. That's if your eyeballs didn’t just liquefy falling from such altitude. Not a safety rail to grab in sight. What if that happened to us? What if suddenly the announcement came that we were stuck and they were sending professionals to rescue us? Do you remember the opening of Cliffhanger?!? No way! They would have better luck just releasing the wheel locks and letting me take my chances rolling back down.

As I sat in the ride vehicle, gripping the lap bar with my eyes shut, I felt my heart start to race. Irrational thoughts began flooding my head. I could see myself completely panicking and going right over the side like Madeline Stowe’s sister in Last of the Mohicans. So this is a panic attack, I thought to myself? The lady next to me had her eyes closed and her lips were moving, I’m certain in prayer. Probably something along the lines of ‘Dear Lord, please don’t let the wheel locks fail because the strain of the fat guy next to me is too much at this angle!”

It’s okay. I was kinda praying the same thing. Finally after what I was certain had been a ten or fifteen minute ordeal (okay, it was really probably 3 or 4 minutes tops) the train lurched forward. We began to climb up and over the cursed mountain. There was a sigh of relief all down the train. Riders cheered and clapped. I managed to wring out my underpants and actually begin to enjoy the rest of the ride again. I figured after that experience, the Yeti could suck it. I’d faced real fear. Deep psychological fear like no mythic monkey could ever induce.

In fact, we actually broke down again a moment later, in the peak of the mountain staring at the broken track.

"Now, there's something you don't see every day."

For whatever reason, I was completely fine. Even though we were actually higher than before I wasn’t bothered at all. We were surrounded by fiberglass rock walls and snow.

It’s like this, I am a man. My logic is sound. I couldn’t see around me this time. I had no idea how terrifying this predicament might have actually been, therefore it wasn’t. Plus I convinced myself that even if we did have to make the arduous climb down on foot, surely from here we could travel down through the mountain. Not in the open air. And surely there were service elevators inside the mountain structure, right?

I’m probably wrong, but let’s just pretend I’m right. After all, how does the guy in the Yeti costume get up and down for his shift each day (and why doesn’t he move a little more???)

"Leave me alone, I'm on my break!"

We finally completed the ride as intended. I made a point to thumb my nose at the Yeti as we whizzed by. I would go on to ride Expedition: Everest 4 more times in a row that day, each time telling the person next to me how we'd just broken down. And pointing out the very spot where it happened every time, just to get a kick out of their reaction. It was usually something along the lines of "Please shut up!" Of course each consecutive ride went by without incident. But take this as a warning my friends. Most of the scares at Disney are controlled terrors. Odds are you're completely safe in the loving arms of Imagineering. But you never know when out of the blue, an attraction might just take the initiative all on its own and "plus it."