Friday we awoke from our steak coma bright and early so we would make it to Magic Mountain when the gates opened. Something you should know about me: I'm not a huge fan of roller coasters. Something you should know about the three other road trippers: they are roller coaster junkies.
I was determined to keep up with the junkies so I spent pretty much all of Friday in a state of fear/hysteria/shock/exhilaration. Roller coasters are fun, I'll admit it. The Magic Mountain roller coasters? Are over the top.
The Goliath. Hits speeds of 85 mph, 255 feet tall, 61-degree drop, zero-gravity floating hills and drops. A twenty-five storey building would fit under the rise of Goliath.
Shortly after this photo was taken, I puked my guts out. Fun times. I then ate a churro and a frozen lemonade and went on more roller coasters (I was trying to keep up with my hardcore roller coaster junkie husband.)
We stayed at the park for ten hours. Ten hours! I was jelly by the end of the night.