I was seven years old and it was my first recollected trip to Disney Land with my two brothers, Danny and Davey, ages 5 and 9 respectively. My younger brother, Danny, and I were joined at the proverbial hip, mouths hanging slightly agape, eyes filled with wonder, mouse ears and an overload of color. My elder brother Davey, wanted to ride Space Mountain, a ride that was no doubt thrilling for him but filled my younger brother with a belly rumbling sense of dread. Danny and I were safety harnessed into what felt like our doom and a large bar was lowered and latched in front of us. We sat hands gripped, white-knuckles exposed, breath faltering. Danny was expressly terrified and I worried over his response to our impending end. My older brother sat in front of us, grinning broadly, hungrily ready to set off. The ride jostled forward at what seemed like a break-neck speed and Danny clung to my arm, screaming with ear splitting terror. ...