Chris Evins didn’t go to Worlds of Fun with the intention of saving lives. On a typical October afternoon, he and his wife went on a roller coaster. However, a girl behind him let out a scream that he described as “blood-curdling, the kind you don’t forget” during the Mamba’s first drop, which was a stomach-lurching plunge from 205 feet. Her lap belt was totally undone. Not a latch. No self-control. Just a teenager clinging to her friend as the coaster reached 72 miles per hour. Grabbing her wrist, Evins looped his arm beneath her lap bar. The girl’s legs were compressed by his wife. For the remainder of the ride, they stayed with the child, encouraging her and assuring her that she would survive.
People should be stopped cold by that story alone. But the part that merits closer inspection is what transpired next.
Evins felt disregarded when he reported the incident to ride supervisors right away. His wife Cassie commented, “It just felt like the staff didn’t care,” later. Another rider on the same coaster reported another belt issue a day later. The Missouri Division of Fire Safety finally conducted an official inspection after receiving an outside email from a worried guest. Additionally, inspectors discovered over 20 malfunctioning lap belt retractors when they arrived that Thursday morning. Twenty. on just one ride. The Mamba was taken out of service after being red-tagged.
In response, Six Flags, the company that owns Worlds of Fun, released a statement that is typical of these businesses: “Safety is our top priority, thorough inspection is completed, and the ride meets all applicable standards.” Despite noting that the buckles were technically operational, they replaced eighteen units out of “an abundance of caution.” It’s important to consider the difference between those two assertions. Why replace eighteen buckles if they were functional? Why frame it as precautionary if they didn’t?
One Kansas City coaster isn’t really the root of the problem here. It’s about how most states handle the oversight of amusement rides, as revealed by the Mamba incident. Inspections must occur at least once a year in Missouri. When the Mamba was inspected in April, inspectors found nothing out of the ordinary. Over 20 restraint systems were malfunctioning six months later. As it happens, annual inspections can overlook a lot in between.
A number of states lack any kind of amusement ride safety organization. County fair commissions or local fire marshals are given oversight, but they might not have the technical expertise to detect mechanical deterioration on fast rides. The 2016 Schlitterbahn incident, in which a child perished on a water slide, was already weighing heavily on Kansas City residents. Now, there’s another reminder that institutional memory fades quickly, but the need to maintain parks doesn’t.
It’s difficult to ignore the fact that an inspection revealing systemic failure was only produced after a visitor emailed a government office weeks after a stranger grabbed a child’s wrist at 72 miles per hour. The park’s employees had been informed. twice. Eventually, the system did work, but it was only because a small number of people put in enough effort.
In one version of this tale, Cassie Evins failed to arrive in time. On that first drop, the girl behind them got up from her seat. The rest of that sentence shouldn’t be necessary for anyone to comprehend why this is significant outside of Missouri. Every state that has a theme park, county fair, or traveling carnival owes its citizens a closer examination of whether their enforcement powers and inspection schedules are truly keeping up with the mechanical wear that occurs in between yearly visits. The Mamba is once again in motion. That’s alright. However, the question of what goes unnoticed everywhere else remains unanswered.
