Any rollercoaster fan worth his salt has been slobbering over this highly anticipated thrill ride since the stunning announcement by Cedar Fair L.P. They would do what other parks had only threatened to do: build a steel beastie that would break the 300 foot barrier. A collective gasp went up through the theme park world and all eyes have turned towards this day, the media preview of the very first giga-coaster. As we did back in 1996, my good friend Dennis Brouse and I climbed into a car and headed up Interstate 77 towards Cedar Point Amusement Park. We had last been to the park for the debut of Mantis, the tallest and fastest stand-up coaster at the time, and Robin Innes, the park's Director of Marketing, had also coaxed me into doing a fearful plummet on their brand new Ripcord attraction. It was then that I braved the rest of the parks gravity onslaught for the first time, including the dizzying heights of the legendary Magnum XL-200. But what we caught a glimpse of as we scooted along the causeway caused an "oh my God" to slip from these lips. You almost had to crane your head to look at it from a distance. The stats are staggering: 6,595 feet of track; a lift height of 310 feet; 300 foot vertical drop at an insane 80 degree angle and the third hill, mind you, has the audacity to take you 182 feet into the air--that's higher than the peak on most average coasters. All during this flight of fancy, the speed of 92 m.p.h. is attained. Flight of fancy indeed. And $25 million worth of guaranteed thrills. Denny and I checked in, got some nifty t-shirts and then settled down to a sumptious breakfast buffet attended by Charlie Brown, Snoopy and the gang. Shortly thereafter, the media gathered around a stage near the entrance of the new ride and listened intently as Cedar Fair execs Don Miears and Richard Kinzel presented their new baby with pride. American Coaster Enthusiast president Bill Linkenheimer asked fellow ACE'ers to drag unwilling reporters onto the coaster so that they could experience it at least once. Finally, a soft-spoken Sandor Kernacs explained emphatically that his company, Intamin AG, had built a unique, record-breaking and safe coaster. This perhaps as a response to a recent series of television news reports regarding the possible physical ramifications of high-intensity thrill rides. There wasn't much talk about it amongst the media, however. When a banner was dropped unceremoniously, the crowd filtered eagerly into the queue and towards the futuristic-looking station. The stark blue box beam track is clearly evident from the get-go, its contrasting flat run into 112 degree overbanked boomerang curve gets a lot of wary glances as the line moves briskly. The lift looms above the trees, sharply ascending into the sky at a 45 degree angle. A unique elevator-lift system carries the nine-car, 36-passenger trains at a speedy clip towards the 310 foot mark. No familiar clickety-clack of anti-rollbacks, the pings and shudders of metal on metal. No sir. The blue train filled with t.v. personalities and production types whisks up the incline as nice as you please and without so much as a pause for reflection, drops like a rock. A gasp rolls through the air as the train is seen streaking upwards and into a massive fan turn, banked at a near-upside down 122 degrees. The blue comet falls below the foliage and that's when the nervous laughter ripples amongst the group. The wait is over indeed. Just about nothing is allowed on Millennium Force, except your body. No purses, pagers, cel phones or anything else that may go skipping out of the cars, which are specially "tiered" vehicles that are the equivalent of a stadium theater seat setting on top of a Tomahawk Missile. The cars are low-profile, with no sides so you can get a good gander at the ground when you're keeling over like the Andrea Doria in those monumental turns. When the dispatch signal rings out, there is a slight knock and the train eases forward towards that sharply rising lift. Then it shoots forward in a quick change of moods and you're already out of the station before you realize that Lake Erie is saying "hello" at you. 45 degrees is a pretty drastic way to fly, anyone who has taken a commercial flight out of Burbank can tell you that the ground disappears quickly when your trajectory is severe. While looking at the Earth sink, it struck me that there would be no time to contemplate this lift as is the old tradition. No sir--we were shoving off. Shove off we did, and there wasn't much time to look around--eyes focused forward, downward, straining to see where that big band of blue track went off to, the cars dipped into a steeper fall and still no track to be seen. It felt as if we were jumping off a building, feet pulling torso and head into a hellacious tug and then track, beautiful, glorious track, pointing the way into even more drop. 300 feet down and there still seemed to be an awful lot of straight track left--the negative G's here are rib-tickling and the train threatens to leave you behind, then a long, swooping arc up into that half-helix, positive G-forces now pressing us into our seats as we slingshot the curve and plunge 169 feet in the direction that we had just come from. And we are movin', the grass, trees and wooden fenceposts blurring as we burn across the flat track, tilt to the left and shoot full bore into a tunnel--up and out, over a 182 foot crest with ease--the airtime floats us over a rise and then down into another high-banked dive to the right. Denny pointed out the wiggling steel partition in front of us, a part of the panel buzzing as the stainless steel trains chattered and rattled, blurring under some track and into an overbanked swish that left us hanging like fruit bats. Another air-time inducing hill brought us parallel to the entry track of this unique double bow-tie element, slamming into a second tunnel where the obligatory photo-opportunity awaited. The entire time, we're hauling complete and total ass. There won't be any worries about them tightening up the mid-course brake; 'cause there ain't one. After the first tear-inducing drop, you're on your own until the high-tech magnetic braking system kisses you into the station. But not before a devious camelback and a gonzo finale of another overbanked 180 degree curve. We broke into applause as the train entered the ready brakes--from start to finish, we had soared on a never-ending jet-trip of speed, rolling through element after element of sweet poetry and unbelievable grace. One of the smoothest coasters ever and with a psychotic kick that cannot be beat--even after several rides, that first drop still turns the cats into kittens, the bears into cubs; it's a serious challenge to the hands-up type, but it can be done. It just takes some serious cajones. Oh, and you'll need plenty of those to get in line for Millennium Force. But if you savor over-the-top thrills and that wonderfully out-of-control feeling that only the best rollercoasters can deliver--you'll get more than your admission's worth with this baby. Grade A fright never tasted sweeter. As an additional bonus, I ran into high school pal Russell Snyder, still as coaster crazy as he was when we were teens. As a regional rep for ACE, he gets around and in fact--we discovered that our next stop was one and the same and not very far away. RIDE MILLENIUM FORCE! Next Stop: Six Flags Ohio

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