Last week, Toby Joe and I met the ENTIRE family down in Florida for a reunion, which had been planned nearly a year and a half ago. We left last Sunday on an afternoon flight that was scheduled to touchdown in Orlando at around 4 in the afternoon.

Have you ever put something off due to unwarranted dread up until the very last minute and once you finally decide to go ahead and do it, you look back and you regret the fact that you hadn’t discovered/attempted/embraced said dreadful deed before your time was up? That’s how I will begin to describe Epcot’s new ride Mission: Space. We didn’t actually try it out until Friday, our last day there. Add to that description a (permanent) plastic barfbag holder, some claustrophobia, Gary Sinise and a whole lot of biting back nausea and you have an overall description of the ride. Oh, but I forgot the most important part; It’s frickin’ brilliant.

The ride simulates traveling into space. It begins at Cape Canaveral and ends on Mars. The warnings thrown all over the inside of the ride were almost more frightful than the actual ride. And I’m convinced they are (along with the sick individuals waiting for their braver [or dumber] loved ones who can’t stop riding) the main reason the line never broke a 5 minute wait; people are made to fear it. Not that said fear isn’t warranted. Toby never made it on. Especially after I got off the ride the first time and told him I had to bite back vomiting as that horrifying yet familiar feeling of nauseous warmth moved from my head all the way down to m my toes. Some of you might think I’m exaggerating. I’m glad I’m not. It was, by far, the most exciting “ride” I’ve ever been on.

First, they strap you into this rather small vessel. You’re to share it with three other people. Up until you actually enter the vehicle and pull down the safety bar, you’re able to bail. (I bailed twice, actually. I bailed twice even AFTER going on the damn thing once before and knowing what to expect.) But once you’re in that seat, you’re captive and the only thing left to do is keep your eyes open at all times, and stare at the monitor straight ahead of you no matter what happens.

Blasting off was the worst part. The vessel you’re in moves so you’re lying on your back. At that point, the monitor shows a blue sky. As the countdown begins, smoke fills the screen and then it happens – the weirdness.

What you’re seeing before you on the monitor is forward movement, yet you’re not actually going anywhere. Your body begins to feel heavy, your cheeks move to the back of your neck and your fat moves in alongside of you; the ride is spinning to simulate the speed at which one takes off. And then the warmth hits. While this was happening, a sound came up from my throat. While sounding it out would work best, it might be written like this:

Auuulrrrgggahhh

Before you know it, you’re breaking through clouds and you’re floating through space. And somehow, they simulate weightlessness. And somehow, my brother, my father and I spend hours trying to figure out how. Without a point of reference, there is no way of knowing which way you’re spinning or if you’re spinning at all. And if you are spinning, what degree do they have your body? There is no way of knowing and it’s all done perfectly. What I mean to say is you REALLY feel as though you’re taking off. You are REALLY made to feel as though you’re in space and weightless. You are REALLY made to feel frightened and sick. You are REALLY there – in space. And holy shit is it ever the coolest, scariest most potentially disgusting ride I’ve ever been on. And holy shit is ever worth the potential nausea and barf.

And I simply cannot stop thinking about it.

After blasting off, you orbit the moon to get enough momentum to get to Mars. This too is a bit harrowing. But they give you enough breaks (I guess from spinning) as to avoid projectile vomiting. And as long as you keep your eyes open and PEELED on the monitor before you, you’ll do just fine. They simulate turbulence during a meteor shower. The ride ends with a manual landing onto the surface of Mars – an event providing the last and final moment of biting back the barf.

Finally, the ride is over and you drunkenly get off and dizzily stumble through the exit doors. Five minutes, an hour, three hours later, you’re still dizzy but that’s not nearly enough of a reason to not totally want to go through it all over again. And my bailing out two out of the four times was not due to fear. It was due to a gleeful dread a dread that has me wishing they had on in NYC or everywhere so everyone could experience it. It’s totally worth a puke or two.

To quote a wise man named Will Oldham, “Fear and dread cannot be confused; by dread I’m inspired, by fear I’m amused.”