I just got off a roller coaster with my family. I am not ashamed to say that I embarrassed them. See, I have a love-hate relationship with roller coasters. And I have vertigo. This has never been a fun thing for me as I have had to mentally weigh every ride as I approach it in an amusement park trying to remember if I have barfed on it at in the past, whose shoes I hurled upon, etc etc. I would avoid them altogether ... except that I (and I do not know why) kind of enjoy the fear. And, of course, I scream.
I scream a lot. And it isn't the Wow-this-is-fun-and-spooky-but-I-love-it Fear; it is the Jack-Torrence-is-coming-at-me-with-a-hatchet Fear. And ... well, it's not pretty. However, it IS pretty ... awful.
When I get off a roller coaster (usually smiling and laughing, happy that it's over yet ready to do it again) the people around me are either laughing or looking at me like I have green goo suddenly seeping out of all orifices in my head. My husband, who was experiencing it with me the entire time, couldn't stop giggling at my fear experience. I was so bad I think my younger son considered walking stealthily behind another family in order to to separate himself from me; my teenager couldn't stop shaking his head. I am not exaggerating. And it is not like everyone else's scream on a coaster ... I mean, roller coasters don't have a control lever in the car just for me, man!