Trip to Dorney Park

When Sam McManus was 10, he went to Dorney Park for a school trip. He was deathly afraid of roller coasters (well, not of them, per se, but of falling off of them in a fiery death), so he   didn’t  want to go near one. Several of the boys in his class thought this was funny, so they would  tease him about it mercilessly, until Sam just sat down on the bench and cried. Then Sam remember watching them laughing as they stood in line for the biggest coaster in the place. That moment was cemented in his mind, them laughing while standing in line, then  them  riding  the roller coaster with their hands high up in the air (the surrender pose). And every single time Sam went back to Dorney Park (many times) he couldn’t go anywhere near that roller coaster not because of the fear, but because of the sense that he was back in  that  same place with those same kids in line laughing at him, enjoying his misery.

Then Sam was 16, and there was this girl Sam could have sworn he asked out on a date. He mean, it happened in his mind every single time he saw her. She would be walking down the street with her friends. Sam would be walking alone, as usual. Then Sam would pass by her, she would drop her books (Sam know, Sam know), Sam would help her pick them up, and their  eyes would meet. Sam know, he have seen too many movies, but this was too real, not like a movie. And then it happened. They passed by each other, her books magically fell, and Sam helped her pick them up. And it was so strange because it felt like it had already happened, even while it was happening. Sam was so shocked by it that Sam didn’t even speak to her when she thanked him, then gave him this odd look before continuing on with her friends.

And again, at 23, Sam woke up early one morning, dragged himself into the bathroom, got ready for work, and headed outside to get into his Ford Probe to make his way there. Halfway to his (admittedly small) car, Sam stopped mid-stride. Something was off, and Sam finally realized what it was. The moon was pretty high in the sky. Sam looked at his watch and saw that it was 1:30 in the morning. Sam had gone through his entire ritual just like it was 7:30, and instead it was six hours earlier. So, Sam went back to bed. And it happened again three nights later. Sam felt exactly the same, too, and it hit him in the exact same spot in the parking lot. 1:30 in the morning. And every so often Sam check his watch halfway to his car because he get that feeling again. Sometimes he didn't even wearing a watch, but he check it anyway. Deja vu.