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Time Out: A Day at the Fair

2

July 9, 2012 by Renee

Yes, she’s having fun.

So, now and then I like to use my blog for something other than yacking on and on about writing and my process and all that lovely shit. Sometimes it’s nice to write about something different, something a little more entertaining. So today I’m going to walk you through a day at the Tweed Fair. No! Don’t run away. It’s fun. I promise.

Okay, so the Tweed Fair is held at the Fairgrounds, also known as the arena, curling club, ball diamond and white building location. Basically, the ball diamond and the arena/curling club/white building parking lots house the bulk of the fair paraphernalia. What? Moving on.

Because the rides, games and whatnot take 2/3 of the parking lot, parking your car at the fair is a challenge. We’re rednecks of course, so that doesn’t faze us none. Instead, we just park along the impossibly narrow streets near the fairgrounds. This makes walking said streets an adventure. There’s only space for one vehicle on the damn road, so it’s usually one-way traffic, and the direction depends on who gets there first. Pedestrians are shit out of luck.

Saturday morning we decide to park at my little brother’s house, as he lives a few doors down from the fairgrounds and his street is not yet filled with assholes and their cars. We leave him our keys in case he needs to move the car to go somewhere because we’re thoughtful like that.

Anyway, we walk the few feet to the gates, Kurt and I promising each other we’re only going to get the kids their all-day rides wristbands and check shit out. We’ll come back later when it isn’t so the-sky-is-falling-hot. Oh, and PS, like every year, when I woke up that morning I found I was coming down with some kind of illness. When I turned my head either direction my neck, ear and jaw hurt very much. I am not a pussy though, the fair must go on. So despite the pain and fever, onward I marched.

At the gate, we pay fifteen dollars to get in. Logan and Kennedy are free. Court is no longer a free admission child, so we may have to start leaving her at home. She doesn’t think that’s fair. I say get a job, you freeloader. Anyway, there are some interesting characters milling about and I’m pretty sure they’re all locals. Surprisingly, the carnies were the most normal-looking people at the fair this year. This disturbs me more than I can say.

The parking lot is divided into two sections; rides and games on either side, with a walkway in between. As you walk in, there are a couple of trucks selling cotton candy and whatnot, and then you come upon the funhouse and some dragon ride for kids. Kennedy is only eight, but she’s my daughter, so she’s also a giant and too big for that ride. She really wanted to go on it, but they said no. But seriously, skinny, bad-haired bitch who controls the dragon ride—is one inch going to make or break your fucking ride? Honestly. I gave her such a dirty look but we moved along. Kurt doesn’t like it when I make a “scene.” We had to get the wrist bands anyway, right?

The game folks are all “Win a prize every time” and “Hey Mama, just five dollars for ten balls!” and I’m all “I’ve got two balls for free that I don’t even want some days, why would I pay for ten more?” No, I did not say that. There were children present and Kurt hates “scenes.”

So we went to the ticket booth, smack in the center of things and asked for three all-day pass wristbands. $75. Cha-ching. My stomach did a flip and we paid. Well, Kurt paid. He’s the man with the money. But it still made me nauseous.

Ten minutes later we’re down from three kids to one. Court and Logan found friends and took off. Then we gained a child as Kennedy’s cousin joined us. But then she left too, following Court and her friends. So it was up to me to ride the Ferris wheel with Kennedy.  Um…I did a great job pretending I wasn’t scared to death. And we got off. So then Ken went on a couple of other rides. Did I mention it was so hot my face melted off? No? Well it was a mess.

Also, I think the fever was making me snaky. So we wandered for a bit, and finally convinced Kennedy we should go home. We tracked down our eldest children and they said they wanted to stay. After handing some cash to each kid, making sure they could eat and have plenty to drink because it was too hot to even live, we went home.

I had a nap, hoping to beat the cold before it really set in. It was a nice nap. Apparently my favorite uncle who I only see like twice a year stopped by and rang the doorbell, but I didn’t hear him. He peeked into my garage/office and asked my mother later if the rest of my house looked like the garbage apocalypse that is the garage, and she said probably it did. I told her to piss off.

Anyway, two hours later, Kennedy is all “We have to go back to the fair!!” and I’m all “Nguh.” because I was sleeping. Then I’m like, “Faaack!” and I got up. Cup of coffee and a bit of sugar and I was good to go back to the fair. This time we parked at Kurt’s cousin’s house. He lives across the road from my parents and one street over from my little brother. We’d have parked at my parents’ house if half the town wasn’t already there. Fuckers. They never even asked. Just parked like they owned the place. If I’d been Mom and Dad, there’d have been some nails in some tires.

But moving on, we went back to the fair, but we didn’t pay to get in this time because our hands were stamped and that’s how shit works at the Tweed fair. Kennedy wanted to go on this teacup ride. But let me explain first. The teacups have this wheel in the middle. You turn it and your teacup spins. Keep turning it and you might just spin fast enough to lift off. At the same time, the ride tilts as you’re spinning. I hope you can grasp the spinning and tilting madness going on. Okay? At the same time as the spinning and tilting, the entire ride is whipping you round and round. AND, what’s holding you in? A stupid rope with a not in the end slotted between two pieces of rubber. Got it? Okay, so Kennedy wants to get on. But she’s all “Don’t turn the wheel.” Me being a good mother, I say, “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’ll turn it a little so you can see how fun it is.” Great fucking idea, Renee. You idiot.

Ride of certain death or vomit.
We get off the ride and I had to go to my mom’s, which is right behind the fairgrounds, because I am certain I might vomit or die, or both. I don’t know what happened at the fair while I was gone. But an hour later I felt better and went back. What did I find? My youngest, my baby, who never wants to go on the crazy rides, and who never wants to be out of my sight, is running all over the place going on all the nutjob rides. What is happening to this world when a mama can’t have a clingy cub anymore? Sigh.

So we follow Kennedy around the fair as she hops on this ride or that. No the dragon ride bitch still won’t let her on. We walk by the teacups. I refuse to get on. But as Kennedy gets in line and I’m all, “What am I stepping in?” I look down to find a steaming heap of vomit. But no—that’s not all I find. As I look around, I realize there are many heaps of steaming vomit all around the ride. I’m talking dozens. And so I feel a little better knowing that yes, that ride made me so nauseous I had to go home, but I was man enough to hold it in. Not like the pussies that just exploded their stomach contents all over the pavement.

I think part of the vomit problem might have been the heat. The other part was the youngsters who arrived at the fair inebriated. When I say youngsters, I’m not talking high school age, where it’s somewhat expected. No, I’m talking twelve year olds and younger. One such group of delinquents walked up and introduced themselves to me. Their eyes were so bright they might have been sucking on electrical cords. They stuck out their hands for a handshake and I’m all “I don’t know where that’s been so I’ll pass.” They giggle and Kurt shakes their hands and they run away. I’m like, “You just condoned that bullshit, you know.” He ignores me because that’s what he does. Later we saw the same kids being followed by the cops. See kids? Drinking underage brings you nothing but vomit and cops. Possibly a grounding too, but that depends on your parents I suppose.

Later, as we watched Kennedy get on the Ferris wheel with her friend, the guy running it is all “Hey, wanna get on?” At first I was offended. No, I certainly did not want to “get on.” Imagine the audacity. But then Kurt’s like, “He wants to know if you want on the ride.” I look at the guy, and I’m like, “For free?” He nods. So I drag Kurt, who didn’t think he’d have to get on the damn thing, over to the Ferris wheel. Kurt says to the man as we step on, “What’s the weight capacity on this thing?” The guy is like “750 pounds.” He looks at me and shrugs. “It’s close, but I think we’ll be okay.”

Ferris wheels are fun as long as you don’t look at the rusted bolts and areas where the metal was patched. Yeah, don’t look at those at all.

Yes, FIVE tickets to go round in a circle on death trap. Happy times.

By 10 pm, Kurt and I are beyond done with the fair. So far the grand total including rides, games, admission and food is just a little over $200. Memories: Priceless. Yes, I’m still sick. Sympathy please.
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2 thoughts on “Time Out: A Day at the Fair

  1. And this is why I no longer go to carnivals. I don't mind my vomit, but I draw the line at someone else's.The only fairs down here are the state fairs with animals. There's always a carnival attached to it, but I stick to the animals. They don't smell as bad as the people.

  2. Renee Miller says:

    Yeah, I don't know why it was so hard for someone to grab a hose or a bucket of water to clean it away. They just left it there. Perhaps it was to set the right mood?

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Renee

Renee

I like to write stuff. Sometimes it's funny. I've published some novels and short fiction. I also battle an addiction to cake and potato chips, and I sometimes have inappropriate fantasies involving Kevin Spacey.

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