Roller Coaster Adventure

            Have you ever been on a roller coaster?  The rise and fall of the tracks heaves your stomach contents back up, burning their way up until you suppress the feeling.  Have you ever swallowed lemon juice?  The overpowering tang consumes you, just as the dizziness devours you on a roller coaster.

            When little more than a tablespoon of lemon juice was poured into my polka dotted Dixie cup, I could already feel my stomach churning.  I was dreading taking my first sip of the repugnant liquid.

            As I reached for my sample of lemon juice, my fingers grasping the smooth, tiny cup, I peered at the fluid.  The off-white, cloudy yellow, reminded me of watery pina coladas.  I remembered splitting open fresh coconuts straight off their palm trees in Hawai’i and emptying them of their contents.  The coconut juice was cloudy and watery, resembling my lemon juice sample.

            I swirled my lemon juice around in its cup, prepping myself for the impending onslaught that my taste buds would have to endure in just a moment’s time.  I brought the cup to my nose, breathing in the odor of citrus.

            I dared a small sip, and my senses were immediately overrun.  The citrus made my eyes start to water; the sourness contorted my cheeks as my lips puckered.  I could feel a tear slither down my cheek as the war in my mouth persisted.

The lemon juice burned its way through my mouth, hitting every sensory receptor, like a bird hitting a just-polished window.

The sour did not dissipate.

I could almost hear the gears of the roller coaster grinding as I swish the juice around.  It chugs up the hill, gaining speed, ready to assault me again on the way down.  On the way down my throat.

I tried to swallow, but my gag reflex was nearly triggered.  I finally was able to force the lemon juice down my throat.  The liquid was a tiger kept in captivity too long; when it was finally released, it clawed its way around in rage.

I was in agony.

The lemon juice felt like Scar when he plotted to kill Mufasa and told Simba it was his fault when his father died.  The Scar-like lemon juice’s evil did not stop at my mouth, or even my throat, but continued all the way down into my stomach.

Like on the roller coaster, I could feel myself nearing the point of being ill as the juice tried to decide whether to come back up on its own accord or not.  Finally it chose to stay down.

The ride stopped and I rose out of my seat on the roller coaster as I rinsed my mouth out with cool water, ridding myself of the last remains of the repulsive lemon juice.

I was finally free.