Upside down and overfed: New thrill ride and treats come to the Boardwalk

From active disasters to impenetrable politicians, Lookout reporters aren’t afraid to “go there.” Except, apparently, when it comes to covering a new, pendulum-like thrill ride at the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk that inverts at 60 feet in the air. 

As a food reporter with an iron gut, a love of roller coasters and a strong, pain-free spine, I was uniquely suited for this assignment. So when no one else threw their hat in the ring, I volunteered as tribute.

The next day, Kris Reyes, the director of external affairs at the Boardwalk, and Omid Aminifard, the vice president of the Santa Cruz Seaside Company, escorted me across the colorful esplanade to Vertigo 360, which opened to guests over 48 inches tall this month.

Along the way, as I anticipated a post-ride trip to Dipper Smash Burgers & Milkshakes – one of several concessions new to the Boardwalk this year – Reyes told me that Vertigo 360’s addition to the park is significant. This is the first major thrill ride that the Boardwalk has added in a decade, since it installed Typhoon in 2016, bringing the total number of rides at the beachfront amusement park to 40 – “more than Disneyland,” he said. (It’s true – the iconic Anaheim theme park has between 35 and 40, depending on whether you count some walk-through experiences as “rides.”)

Instead of removing something to make space, the Boardwalk moved Freefall, a popular tower ride, a little to the right, and squeezed in Vertigo between the Cave Train and Space Race bumper cars at the east end’s lower level. “Space is at a premium at the Boardwalk, so it’s like a big jigsaw puzzle. We constantly have to move things around to make room, so finding a ride that fits into the footprint that we want can be really challenging,” said Reyes. 

Plus, it goes upside down. Typhoon also flips guests head over heels, but apparently enough of the Boardwalk’s 10 million annual riders like dangling suspended in the air within the safety of a state-certified metal cage that the park decided to add one more. 

I’m one of them. I love the rush of swinging through the air while the bottom falls out of my stomach on a plunging drop. So I eagerly cut the line for a chance to ride, only to find out that, due to a minor electric issue – one of the indicator lights wasn’t working – the ride was offline while the mechanic went down his list of safety checks.

Was I afraid to be strapped to this flying washing machine? No. But the next words I heard from Aminifard terrified me: “Let’s have lunch first, and come back in an hour.” 

Bravely, I headed to a cheery fast food-like burger stand near the Giant Dipper roller coaster, where Boardwalk Executive Chef James Squassoni spent more than two months developing a definitive recipe. “We want to keep it simple and really tasty, so that’s why we approached it the way we do,” he said. 

It’s a classic: The cook smeared 80/20 Angus beef on a hot griddle, while the steam from the quick-cooking meat softened slivers of white onion and melted slices of American cheese. Each burger gets two patties, traditional or house-made roasted jalapeño and garlic sauce, and pickles on a potato bun. It’s delightfully messy and satisfying. In fact, I would return to the Boardwalk just for this burger.

That’s the goal, said Squassoni, and, just a few weeks into the launch, guests are already catching on. The spot sells around 4,000 burgers a week ($13.99 or $18.99 for a combo with fries), along with tangy salt-and-vinegar french fries ($6.29) and fresh milkshakes ($9.45) made from Santa Cruz’s Marianne’s Ice Cream. 

Contrary to popular sentiment regarding amusement park food, the Boardwalk prepares many of the items sold as its concessions in-house in a huge on-site commissary kitchen, from specialty condiments and cut fruit and lemonade, to brining and roasting whole turkey legs and chicken thighs for teriyaki rice bowls. In this spirit, this year it added an electric and gas smoker to prepare brisket fresh daily. 

“Not many amusement parks smoke their own meat, and you can taste the difference,” said Squassoni. After an 11-hour smoke with real cherry wood, the brisket is kept warm through the night at a safe temperature so it never has to be reheated. The next day, it’s sliced and packed into a hearty roll with coleslaw and homemade barbecue sauce ($14.99) at Beachside BBQ. 

Another concession launched this year capitalized on two food trends: beignets and dirty sodas. At Fry’d & Fizz’d, owned by Whiting’s Foods – the Boardwalk’s largest and longest-standing concessionaire – they serve up the New Orleans doughnuts (three for $6.99) dusted with powdered sugar and glazed with chocolate, caramel or strawberry icing, alongside a menu of sodas flavored with syrups ($6.99 for 16 ounces). 

Both sweet treats are having a major moment nationally, and the concessionaire were looking for a clever way to combine them, said Margie Whiting Sisk, co-owner of Whiting’s Foods. “We wanted to do both concepts and make the best use of a small space,” she said. The stand replaced Flavors of India, a short-lived Indian food stall that launched in 2025. 

Dirty sodas feel like a day at the Boardwalk epitomized into a single beverage. Brightly colored and tooth-numbingly sweet, with combinations like Sprite with blue raspberry syrup, vanilla and cream, or Monster energy drink with green apple, pineapple and lime, they are addictive and fun, an insulin splurge to fuel joyful bursts of screaming and laughing under the summer sun. 

It was thus, my stomach bursting with a weekend’s worth of treats, that I returned to Vertigo 360. I squished into the snug plastic seat, feet hanging, as metal arms held me immobile. I was lifted, swung back and forth, increasingly higher, the yelps of fellow passengers growing with each turn. Finally, we reached the apex.

I have gazed out at Monterey Bay at countless angles, always appreciative of its ever-changing beauty. But I had never seen it upside-down from six stories. The familiar layers of blue and green inverted, an unexpected twirl of a familiar kaleidoscope. For one oddly serene moment, maybe just half a second, the din of the amusement park faded and I gazed out in awe. 

“Let go!” screamed my neighbor, encouraging me to release my hands from their grip to my harness.

I did. 

Have something to say? Lookout welcomes letters to the editor, within our policies, from readers. Guidelines here.