Sweat was pouring down his forehead. His knuckles were turning white, and he was struggling in his seat as he began to raise his voice saying,
“Get me out of here!”
We had just screeched to a halt after twisting, flipping, and racing through the Batman roller coaster, and it was taking a little too long for us to be unloaded from the tangle of seatbelts and safety restraints.
I’ve always wondered why my dad insisted on taking us to Six Flags every year before school started because this always seemed to happen. He would inevitably become severely claustrophobic on one…or several…of the attractions.