The fairs in town and I’m heading for the most intense looking rides.
I feel adrenaline beginning to surface as the fumes from the cosmopolitan food venders caresses my nostrils.
Throngs of people are considering the rides, there are rides that look as if their purpose is to reveal the contents of ones stomach, whilst, others stand prepared to put life and death in the stand.
Parents appear nonchalant to the intentions of each ride! Yet, I’m beginning to see beyond the newly painted screens and the stale bagged candy-floss, I now see machines cranked and primed, ready to launch me from their plastic upholstered seats.
I see pulsating lights that blind the eyes of silver and gold fish, gawping as they swim in stagnant bagged water, and I can hear sounds that mask the fairs hidden intentions, it wants me, its desire is to claim me, the fair rides want to launch me to a premature death!
I feel as if I’m on the verge of hysteria, but, I can’t leave now, I would look weak, and I can’t run or hide, too many people.
I want to go home!
From a distance I thought I could easily conquer the largest of these rides, yet even though I stand with this year’s adolescence, apprehension now caresses my mind as I crank the vertebrae’s in my neck to gaze at each ride.
‘Daddy daddy I want to go on that one’ . . .
A young child, about eight years of age, either prescription glass’s are in order, for her tear stained eyes, or the child is completely mad!
The ride that she demands to be placed upon is enormous; its arms thrash against a darkening sky whilst its fists manipulate the minds of those it mercilessly catapults through the air, telling its passengers that this is fun, this is entertainment.
Also, I’m sure I saw insurance policies upon a table, next to a garish set of stairs, stairs, which lead to a ride called Final Destination! Or maybe my hysteria is entering a critical arena.
The father agrees with me! I can tell by the way he drags the now distraught child to a set of teacups with seats, that carousel jauntily over plywood boards.
I have now volunteered to hold coats!
No one seems to have noticed the beads of perspiration traversing my temple though the night air is quite chilly.
I feel a sense of relief ease the muscles in my clenched fists, and a sense of accomplishment soften the flow of blood threatening to burst a vessel in my forehead.
I won, the machines failed to devourer me, they failed to launch me to the next life, and they failed to remove the contents of my intestines.
Yet, as we begin the walk home, there is a nagging thought beyond my brow, that maybe, just maybe . . . I missed out on all the fun of the fair!