Riding a roller coaster in a state where no official government inspection has ever taken place is somewhat unnerving. The bolts were not approved by a state engineer. There isn’t an inspector on the platform. Only a park worker and a checklist created by the park. That was Alabama for decades, and the majority of visitors were completely unaware of it.
In May 2023, Alabama lawmakers passed new ride safety legislation, and shortly after, Governor Kay Ivey signed it into law, removing the state from an embarrassingly small group that lacked formal oversight for rides at fixed-site amusement parks. It sounds like a standard update to regulations. It isn’t. Contrary to what the headline implies, the backstory is deeper, more illuminating, and in some respects more troubling.
The law itself brings Alabama into compliance with ASTM International standards, the internationally accepted framework that regulates the construction, maintenance, and operation of rides. It mandates that operators keep inspection records for a minimum of three years, requires third-party yearly inspections of water slides and amusement rides, and initiates new inspections whenever a ride experiences major modifications. Additionally, since crowd behavior at entertainment venues has changed in recent years, it gives park operators official authority to remove visitors who act dangerously. This is a growing concern nationwide. Really simple stuff. This begs the obvious question: Why did it take so long?
A portion of the solution resides within what some have dubbed the “roller coaster loophole.” The Consumer Product Safety Commission used to have federal authority over all amusement rides. Then, in 1981, Congress took away the CPSC’s power to inspect fixed-site parks due to intense lobbying by the theme park industry. Carnivals on the road continued to be controlled. Permanent parks did not. This distinction, which was made almost carelessly forty years ago, left a legal void that was left up to the individual states. Some states, like Alabama, never filled it.
It’s more difficult to pinpoint exactly what kept Alabama in that vacuum for so long. Here, parks relied on private certifications from trade associations such as IAAPA, internal maintenance teams, and a genuine, reasonable safety record. There were no roller coaster deaths in Alabama that made headlines across the country. In the political calculus of regulation, there is a perception that this is more important than it should be, and that lawmakers frequently wait for a terrible incident to occur before considering safety as urgent. The bill’s sponsor, State Representative Alan Baker, was very clear about this: no particular incident served as the impetus for the legislation. It took the initiative. Just that makes it a little out of the ordinary.
In the current political climate, it seems almost counterintuitive to watch a state decide to regulate something before a tragedy compels it to do so. It’s possible that the legislation gained traction in part because there were fewer and fewer states on the list of unregulated states, making it harder to defend them. This could be a quiet reputational issue rather than a safety emergency.
Jakob Wahl, president of IAAPA, described it as a step toward complete national support for the industry’s own safety initiatives. Although self-described “industry-supported” oversight has its own ambiguities, there is hope in that framing. It remains to be seen if the new law’s independent inspections will be truly rigorous or merely ceremonial; that information usually resides in enforcement rather than the legislative text.
Alabama has joined the majority for the time being. The rides are identical. The screaming kids, hills, and drops are all exactly the same. However, an inspector is meant to be observing from somewhere in the background. That is not insignificant.
