Maybe Im being touched by a bit of sentimentality, and feeling such a sense of loss that this ride is now dismantled and on its way to Honduras... but I am compelled to give it a ten - I like to think that I have a clear enough head to allow it that much, as it was one hell of a ride.

I admit to having had a rather lackluster experience on my first Coney Island Zipper jaunt - with hrrytraver at my side, the circuit was filled with squeaks, lurches and a somewhat sluggish speed level... in short, we were able to carry on a relatively fluid conversation about life in general - not a good thing on a Zipper. I had to chalk it up to being early in the season - after having read Timbermans effusive review, I knew that something was, well, off.

Boy, was I right.

Later that same spring, I took my amusement park and life-in-general companion to the Zipper. Hed never been on one, and why the hell not give Coneys that honor? As well as, of course, a second chance. We clambered into the cage, and I looked the operator (you know Coneys operators, folks - need I say more) in the eye, and said, "Get this... hes never been on one of these things". The op just nodded and showed his teeth - or lack thereof - in a wide, demonic grin. I added... "Oh, and on top of that... hes going into the MARINES". I never saw a ride op light up so much like a roman candle - he was downright ecstatic. "Tough guy, eh? Lets see what he can handle", was his response. We were alone on the ride, and I knew this guy meant BUSINESS.

And oh, my god... we were immediately sent into the clutches of hell.

I cannot possibly conceive of how many times we were flipped, and at such a level of gut-wrenching force, for such a damned looooong time. I wouldnt be shocked at all to find that we spent at least ten minutes on the thing - after all, that sadistic genius of a ride op had a Marine-to-be on his pride and joy, and nobody else was in line to have a go. He drove that thing mercilessly, with the two of us screaming like little kids confronted by a viewing of Faces of Death. My other held firm with the digestive fortitude of a well-trained jet fighter - I on the other hand started getting woozy at about, say, nine minutes into the cycle. I remember getting pelted like crazy with pocket change and hairpins, finally listing into a mantra of "Thats enough Thats enough Thats enough Thats enough", and somehow, right about then the op brought her to an easy stop. I think he must have seen the look on my face, and thought better than to be cleaning up vomit from all over the cage, you know. He brought us to the sacred ground of planet Earth once more, albeit not without a few "Im going to screw with you guys" jolts thrown in for good measure. Utterly blindsided, we nearly fell out of the cage, and the op asked us, "Well, how was it?" Our reply - "Amazing".

So, folks, there you have the legendary Coney Island Zipper. If you ever make it to Honduras in the future, and happen upon this beast, run, dont walk, and get your ticket. And be sure to tell them you have something or other to do with the military - it cant hurt.

Ah, the Zipper. Possibly the greatest example of evil genius as applied to the amusement park industry: free-spinning cars on a conveyor belt moving along the perimeter of a rotating arm. When this thing really gets going, it will not only leave you completely disoriented but will scatter your personal effects over most of the midway. What most distinguishes the Zipper from its other multi-axes bretheren are its eighth-grade-science project looks and the cages, which force you into a hunched-over standing position and forgo restraints in favor of a thin layer of foam. You basically have to wedge yourself in whichever way you can; the only thing holding you in place is a padded bar attached to the door (so if the door opens, away you go). The defining characteristic of the Coney Island specimen is the impression of danger: the doors upon which your life depends are "secured" with what look like large bobby pins; what padding remains is often duct-taped in place, and the occasional ray of sunlight peaks through gaps in the seams of the sheetmetal pods. In select cages, the LATERAL play will be significantly more terrifying then even the usual shaking, popping, and lurching that accompany every forward revolution. Note that the quality of the ride will depend to a large degree on whos at the controls (inevitably a person whose skin sports more ink than the pages of a King James Bible) and the weight distribution in the cage. If everythings just right, the cage will flip over and over in rapid succession, and you may find yourself, as I recently did, renewing your relationship with the Creator and bargaining away any number of bad habits for the inestimable privilege of standing whole and sound on solid ground. Many rides will thrill you, some will even scare you, but for a true lesson in the fleeting preciousness of life, look no further than the Coney Island Zipper.