My daughter and I went to the local fair recently. A 4-H fair. They’re always fun…we like the animals, the food, the vendors, the rides. Most of the rides anyway. The scrambler and the tilt-a-whirl are our favorites. Unfortunately this fair didn’t have those. So on this particular day, we tried a ride called the paratrooper. It didn’t look so bad from the bottom. It went round a bit fast but then we like that. It was clearly an ancient model but nonetheless it had to be sturdy, right?
However, as we sat there at the very top waiting for the lower cars to be loaded, the loose gate on our seat, the lurching of the cab, and the overall feeling of being tethered to nothing while sitting several stories in the air all combined to create an “okay, this is no longer fun” kind of a feeling.
Have I ever mentioned I’m afraid of heights? Well, not heights so much as falling.
Long story short, I think that the only thing more embarrassing than desperately demanding to be let off of a carnival ride because of an impending panic attack would be to actually pass out and/or simply drop dead from fright on said carnival ride. Guess the ride operator should be glad that I didn’t completely screw up his day with the latter. I imagine the paperwork required would have been awful. From the scowl on his face though I don’t think he appreciated my consideration.
And how was your weekend?