In the spirit of Halloween, please let me share with you my most terrifying ride experience ever…
It started out just like any other ride. We entered Test Track’s FastPass+ return line. After waiting a few minutes, we were ushered into that room where lots of people stand at monitors to create their virtual test cars. After designing our car, the doors at the far end of the room opened. We obediently moved into the relatively smallish room where you make your way up a ramp, go through another door, and have a short wait before climbing into your ride vehicle.
As we made our way from the “monitor room” to the “ramp room” (I don’t know what they’re really called, but this will do for our purposes), things seemed a bit off. It was more crowded in there than usual. You see, the ride was temporarily shut down. (Which is not unheard of. Part of it is outside, and during thunderstorm season, it can shut down quite often.) The line ahead of us wasn’t moving, but the line behind us still was. As we stood in the ramp room, the doors leading from the monitor room swung open. More people poured into the already too-crowded space. The monitor room doors swung shut, and we could hear the sounds of yet another group of people shuffling in there to design their concept cars. The line going up the ramp still wasn’t moving. No one was being let out of our room, and more were about to come in. My claustrophobia flared up.
“Talk to me,” I said to my husband, my gaze locking with his.
“What do you want to talk about?” he asked innocently.
“Anything.” I stared him dead in the eyes, feeling panic trying to claw its way out of my throat. “Just keep my mind busy.”
He started talking about going for lunch after the ride, naming a few places around World Showcase. Then he stopped, awaiting my input.
“Keep talking!” I begged.
He talked about where we could get dessert after our lunch, again pausing for my thoughts.
“Please just keep talking!” I frantically pled.
More people poured into the room. I kept my eyes locked on my husband’s, listening to his gentle voice, pretending it was just the two of us alone in the space. As I felt my panic near the breaking point, the mass of people on the ramp finally started to move. It was slow, but there was definite movement. As we inched out way up the ramp, I felt my nerves start to calm. As we passed through the doorway at the top of the ramp, I felt like I could breathe again. A short wait later, we boarded our ride vehicle to find… an e-cigarette! Ewww!
The moral of this story: always do the single rider line at Test Track. It doesn’t go through the potential bottleneck of the monitor room/ramp room. And don’t use e-cigarettes. They’re gross.