Lets just get this over with so everybody can get back to loving their favorite coaster designer without some crotchety old coot sticking his thumb in their eyes. I didnt hate Apollos Chariot. I just thought that on the whole it was boring in that way particular to certain categories of B&M roller coasters. People, I imagine, enjoy these rides for the same reason they enjoy stage productions like "River Dance." Going into it, they know that every element of the experience has been choreographed, synchronized, and rehearsed to the nth degree. If thats your thing -- and judging from the reviews on this website, it probably is -- thats fine. These qualities obviously have their appeal.
To be sure, Im not against choreography, synchronization, or rehearsal as a general matter; I just tend to appreciate them most where I want or expect excitement the least. So while theyre a big plus when were talking about, say, root canals or colonoscopies, they work less well for me in the roller coaster context. There, I prefer wildness, spontenaity, and surprise. Then again, Id also prefer watching break dancers on the boardwalk to cloggers on Broadway. You get the same level of skill and commitment from each type of performer, but with the break dancers, the experience seems more edgy and unnerving. Youre pretty sure nobodys actually going to crack his skull or dislocate his shoulder, but the impression that the whole thing could all go horribly wrong at any moment remains. In a word, its more exciting, and for me, at least, excitement is a necessary element in a great roller coaster.
Yet even boring ol Apollos Chariot has a few noteworthy moments, chief among them the first drop. On at least one back-seat ride the day of my visit, my restraint wound up rather loose. By rather loose, I mean it had just cleared the go/no-go line, which left several inches of space between the life-preserving clamshell and my bony pelvis. Now I must stress here for our young readers that I made no attempt to subvert or defeat the restraint system, nor would I ever violate the ACE bylaws by doing so or condoning anyone who did. In this particular case, it just so happened that the professionals at Busch Gardens saw fit to leave my restraint poised above, rather than upon, my lap, and I decided to leave it that way. As a result, I spent the entire first drop levitating above my seat. It was a wonderful feeling, the best Ive experienced on any B&M hyper.
Nevertheless, the big brains at B&M with their lab coats and protractors must have foreseen even this eventuality, since when the drop finally leveled out, the seat gently rose up to meet my tuckus, and the force of the pullout into the next hill authoritatively ratcheted the clamshell down onto my lap. The moment was like when the euphoria of being approved for a mortgage gives way to the slamming of the bankers briefcase, and you suddenly realize that the fun part of the transaction is over. Yet even during the time I spent basically free-falling some 200 feet, the experience never felt scary or jarring. Somewhat perversely, perhaps, I found that rather disappointing.
In fact, "rather disappointing" succinctly describes my impression of Apollos Chariot. Many of the good things people have said about it are true -- the layout continually mixes it up, the ride interacts artfully with its environment, a couple of the drops are rather sharp -- but to the extent it impresses, it still fails to thrill. Like far too many B&M coasters, it simply never cuts loose.
Apparently, the long-hairs with ripped jeans and concert t-shirts are all working in the suspended division of B&M, as a short walk from Apollos Chariot to the back seat of Alpengeist will demonstrate. That ride and any number of Batman clones prove that B&M has a few wild-eyed types wandering the lab. Unfortunately, none of them got anywhere near the drawing board for this overrate
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