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Sunday, August 10, 2003

The Flying Bobs

The state fair just isn’t the same when you’re 40-something as it was when you were 10-something.

Today’s visual: As the girl is about to exit the Flying Bobs after her third go-round, she knows this will be her last ride until next year. It’s her favorite ride. Going backwards at breakneck speeds, the howling, screaming rock ‘n roll music at deafening levels, the leering looks from the rapacious looking operators, all combined with being totally out of control, gives her a feeling of euphoria like none other and she doesn’t want it to ever end.

In a last ditch effort, she throws herself on the ground and desperately grabs hold of the carny’s leg who has been operating the machine. She begins yelling at the top of her lungs, “one more time, pleeeeeeeeeease!” She’s filthy from traipsing around the fairgrounds all day and her face is streaked as the tears start flowing.

Standing at the gate to the ride, her mother puts her hands on her hips, and with a mixture of infuriation and helplessness, informs her daughter, “if you don’t knock it off right now, you won’t be coming back to the fair next year.”

And with that threat firmly embedded, I let go of the carny’s leg and allowed myself to be marched out of the fairgrounds by my 77 year old mother.

Posted by Marie at August 10, 2003 7:50 PM