If I ran the coaster

My dream came true at Coney Island

Some kids want to be firefighters when they grow up. Others might want to be astronauts, movie stars, or sports heroes. Me? I wanted to work at an amusement park. Specifically, I wanted to operate roller coasters.

My fascination with thrill machines began at a very young age. Among my earliest memories–and we’re talking perhaps two years old or younger–I vividly recall sitting on the sand and being mesmerized for hours by screaming trainloads of passengers as they navigated the rickety white lattice structure of the Cyclone at Revere Beach in Massachusetts. As I got a bit older, I determined that I wanted to send people off on screamtastic coaster journeys.

Alas, as with many seaside amusement areas, the Cyclone and all the rides at Revere Beach are long gone. And sadly, I never pursued my dream job.

I finally got to give the thumbs-up sign in a loading station. (Jeremy Levine)

I didn’t lose my passion for coasters and amusements, however, and ended up (as ATP subscribers well know) writing about them as a theme park journalist. That’s how I got to know Deno “D.J.” Vourderis, an all-around wonderful guy and a third-generation member of the family that owns and operates Deno’s Wonder Wheel Park at New York’s Coney Island. (Fun fact: Revere Beach was the Boston area’s answer to Coney Island.) When I let Vourderis know about my longstanding wish, he graciously extended an open invitation.

So a few years ago I made the trek to Brooklyn’s famed amusement mecca, got into the operator’s booth and behind the control panel of Phoenix, and fulfilled a childhood dream. I ran the coaster.

Phoenix swoops past the Wonder Wheel. (Arthur Levine)

Before I share any more of my experience, I want to make it clear that at no time during my brief stint as a ride operator were passengers placed in any danger. My work was done under the direct, eagle-eyed supervision of Vourderis and one of his trained employees and followed safety protocols.

I manned the main control panel, which is filled with buttons, knobs, lights, a display screen, and assorted other doodads. While it looked intimidating, modern coasters like Phoenix, which is manufactured by Vekoma, are almost totally automated and include numerous safeguards. For example, they incorporate sensors that detect whether passenger restraints are fully engaged. There are manual overrides, and (actual) operators need to be trained to use them when necessary. They are rarely required, however.

Phoenix makes a banked turn. (Arthur Levine)

I only had two tasks: I opened and closed the gates to allow passengers into the loading station; and–this was the dream-come-true part–I released the train to start the ride.

A coaster crew typically includes a few positions. After passengers board the train, ride operators check each seat to make sure the restraints are properly and securely fastened. When the safety check is complete, the operators give the universal thumbs-up sign to indicate the train is ready for dispatch. I’d been waiting for that sign my whole life.

For redundancy and as an extra precaution, coasters such as Phoenix have two control panels and require two operators to begin the ride. After acknowledging the thumbs-up signs, an operator on the other side of the station pressed a button on his control panel. That enabled me to push the button on the main control panel to release the train.

Brothers Teddy Vourderis (left) and Deno “D.J.” Vourderis aboard Phoenix (Courtesy of Deno’s Wonder Wheel Park)

With a satisfying “whoosh,” the brakes eased as the 10-car, 20-seat train lumbered out of the station and rounded a bend to climb the 68-foot lift hill. I watched as the giddy passengers, some nervously shifting in their seats, filed past the booth. In a few moments their screams reverberated throughout the seaside park.

Known as a suspended family coaster, Phoenix’s train hangs beneath the track, and passengers’ legs dangle from the ride‘s ski lift-like seats. Wedged into an odd-shaped parcel of land next to the iconic Wonder Wheel, the custom-built layout includes some abrupt twists and turns. Instead of dropping straight down after cresting the lift hill, the train swings passengers to one side as it turns back on itself and descends. From the perspective of the passengers, it appears that they are going to careen into one of the structure’s bright yellow support columns (which, of course, is just an illusion). Riders instinctively tuck in their dangling legs. There are additional “foot chopper” near calls as the train continues to turn, twist, and swing to and fro.

Phoenix does not include any inversions and only hits a top speed of 34 mph. But the smooth ride doesn’t skimp on the G-forces and is deceptively intense. (I should know. After my ride operator shift was over, I gave the coaster a few whirls.)

Check out this wonderful video of my experience operating Phoenix that was shot and edited by the award-winning filmmaker, Jeremy Levine (who just so happens to be my son).

“When you’re on the street looking at the coaster, it doesn’t look like much,” says Vourderis. “And then people ride it. It really whips you. Passengers get off and say, ‘What was that? I want more!’”

Sporting broad smiles and giving each other high-fives, the passengers, many of them young children, returned to the station after their ride. I responded with a broad smile of my own. It was quite a feeling of power and responsibility to operate the coaster and deliver an adrenaline-filled, joyous experience.

“The best thing about the Coney Island Phoenix is that every day parents tell me this is their child’s first roller coaster. I’m getting goosebumps just thinking about it,” Vourderis says. “We’re creating coaster enthusiasts one kid at a time.”

Who knows? Maybe some of those new fans will want to work at an amusement park when they grow up. If they are lucky, they may even get to run the roller coaster.

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Everyone can leave a comment. So please do! Would you want to operate a roller coaster? Have you visited Coney Island? (Every park fan needs to make the trek.)