I don't scare easy.
In my 30(ish) *cough* years on this planet I've been in some hairy situations. I've been shot, fought off a crazed chav with a knife, spent 6 months as the only white person in a vey rough part of Jamaica, mugged in amsterdam, attacked numerous times late at night in London, nearly run over by a concrete mixer, almost bombed 3 times (London again) and nearly drowned more than once due to a hearty non-fear of strong tides (and being convinced as a strong swimmer I could outswim them). There's more, but you get the picture.
So you think in one of those incidents I'd have actually been a bit scared. Well, maybe after the event.
The only things that have really come close to scaring me have been a couple of ghostly incidents, but I'll save those stories for another time.

The last thing to put the fear of God into me I can sum up in two words:-
Kamikaze Waterslide

It was in Torremolinos a couple of years ago. An old friend of mine lives in Malaga and I'd popped over for the weekend. We decided on a day at the waterpark with his kids and, after trying all the different slides, there was only one left - the Kamikaze. An almost vertical waterslide, it dominated the skyline over the park and I'd eye'd it ominously, deciding that there was no way I was going near it.
My mates kids were only a couple of years old, so thankfully they were not badgering anybody to go on it.
I don't know how, but somehow my mate and me got into taking the piss out of eachother saying it looked "easy" and we didn't reckon it looked that high. We've got a history of taking the piss out of eachother and taking it too far, so a few minutes later, we're climbing the stairs to the top of the ride.
I think at this point neither of us had any real intention of actually going on the ride. This was confirmed when we stopped halfway up (it was fucking high) to admire the view. He looked at me and said in a shaky voice "We don't have to do it, if it looks to high we can just go back down the stairs".
This was something I wanted to do already, but didnt want to admit. So, alot of heavy climbing (and black spots before my eyes) later, we were at the top.
There was a small queue of kids and a group of young, bikini clad spanish girls chatting and watching the kids. It was at this point we realised that if we didn't do it, we would look like complete and utter prats to these girls and to the kids coming up behind us.
With a heavy hear, the attendant made me sit on the slide with my feet dangling over the edge. I peaked over the edge and could only see the bottom of the slide. It was so near vertical that I couldn't even see it. This was the moment that I discovered that I have vertigo (I'd never given it a moments thought before then).
The attendent explained that I had to cross my arms over my chest and cross my legs and he'd push me over.
I never thought I'd be able to peel my fingers off the rail, but somehow I was able to do it. as soon as he pushed me over, I fell like a stone, arms and legs wailing, trying to gain any purchase.
This was when I realised that my vertigo was actually a fear of falling and the only reason why I didn't leave a midair shit-trail, is that my shorts were forced up my arse by the g-force of my fall.
When I hit the bottom and somehow managed to crawl on my hands an knees away from this torture device, I was berated by the guard at the bottom for not crossing my arms and legs. If I'd had any coordination left I'd have probably swung for him.

The same thing happened to my mate who came 'falling' down after me and for weeks we'd have flashbacks and go white.
How those kids were throwing themselves off and then running straight back up for another go, I'll never know.

This was about four years ago and I still have the occasional nightmare about it.

Well, would you look at the size of that? Not bad for my first post ;P
(EvilMeister, Mon 26 Feb 2007, 22:09, Reply)