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Nov 6, 2002
The Carnival Monster
The traveling carnival comes to town but once a year!....Thank God! (Commentary)

The Carnival Monster

© 2002 anne tatalin

When you live in a small town without an amusement park you either travel a great distance to the region's closest attraction or wait for one of those traveling carnivals to set up shop on the outskirts of town. This past weekend we chose the latter.
Let's just say it looked like a nice little carnival when you drove by,especially at night when all of the rides were lit up. The atmosphere seemed gay and bright. Well, I guess it just doesn't take much to impress kids.

While I agreed to take my kids, I didn't much relish the thought of being there with nothing to do but wave at them each time they came round on the Ferris Wheel. I asked a friend to come with me so I at least had another adult to talk to. Lenore, my friend who has just separated from her husband of many years, seemed to need to get out a bit more. She eagerly agreed to go with us. Somewhere along the line I forgot that when depressed, Lenore will spend money on any old senseless thing that stands still long enough to make change. The carneys would probably smell her coming long before we parked the car.

The day we planned to go it rained all afternoon long. I could not bear to break my promise to the children, so we went when the rain cleared up that evening. Let's just say we won't do that again. Each step was a struggle as we pulled our feet, one by one, out of sucking mud holes with every step.

I gave my kids each the same amount of money with the warning that when it was gone, so were we. The first ride they chose was something we used to call The Satellite. You stand upright in this large spinning circle that tilts and whirls.
The next five seconds were surreal. I became this shrill, whiny harpy from another world. I was my mother.
"Stand up! Hold on with BOTH hands! Don't let go!"
The young man at the controls shot me a dark look. I rolled my eyes back in my head and breathed fire at him.
"Does this ride always make these kind of noises? When is the last time this ride had a safety check? I asked him one instant and then turned on the kids the next, "Turn around and face front!", I shrieked at my son.
"I don't know lady, it's not my department. But yeah, since you have to know, it always sounds like this."
"Well, maybe you need to lubricate something. It's creaking."
His eyes told me he thought I was the one who needed lubricating but by then the ride was over and my children were making their descent.

"We want to ride the Spider!" my kids said.
"It's dark over there. It probably doesn't work. You don't want to ride something that will drop you from 30 feet and spill your guts onto the pavement, now do you?", my mother still possessed my body. Only she could be that graphic.
"Oh, it's open.", another parent acknowledged my remark. The man told us, "They just need four people to ride before they run it." He shook his head, "Isn't that the silliest thing?"
"It's not silly. Don't you see with four people the weight is distributed more evenly on the ride", I told him. "In fact, let's wait for more kids!, I added as though I had taken physics from Einstein himself.
The man looked at me strangely. I probably sprouted those two heads that were my mother's by now. "No", he said pointedly, "the man said he only needs four kids to ride."
"Let's go!" the kids yelled while running through the sucking mud holes to the still dark Spider.
The good thing about this ride was it was quiet. The bad thing about this ride was that all the little spider pods spun round and round and round so fast that the Shrieking Harpy Two Headed Monster that was my mother and was now possessing me could not stand to watch. It made her head explode.
Instead I approached the concession stand.

I could still faintly hear the 'muck-muck-muck' noises my feet were making with every step through the mud. I paid the three dollars for some cotton candy for my oldest child who opted not to join us. Now, what did I want? Hmmmm....pickle on a stick! Now, that sounds interesting. Well, it sounded safe. If the city hadn't come round to inspect the rides who knew what kind of germ warfare was going on in this little concession stand. It was possibly the worst pickle I've ever eaten. Now, pickle on a stick is just what it sounds like. Open jar, insert stick and out comes the pickle. How do you ruin a damn pickle? It was not crisp, it was mushy and I speared the top of my mouth with the point of the stick.
"Here", I told my kids, "have a pickle."
"Euwwww, Mommy!", they said simultaneously spitting out their pickle bites in a nearby trash can.
"Yeah, that's what I thought, too." I told them. "Let's go find Lenore."
Left to her own devices she found her way to the fun and games section of the carnival. I found her in a booth where she was merrily throwing darts at balloons. The prizes in this booth were the most gaudy, ostentatious cardboard framed photos and posters.
"What is it you are trying to win?" I asked her.
"Oh, I want that unicorn there....the big one with the wizard. For two
dollars you play until you win. And when you win three times you get one of the big pictures."
"Why don't you just give him six dollars then? It would be cheaper that way."
She rolled her eyes at me. Why was everyone rolling their eyes at me, I thought to myself? Did I still have horns?
"It's no fun that way.", she snapped.

Suddenly a tug at my sleeve. "Mommy, I want a bunny. Can I have a bunny?"
My daughter is pointing toward a carnival game in which upon throwing a ping pong ball into a dish floating in a tank of water you can claim a baby rabbit for your prize.
I started channeling my mother again. "A rabbit?!?! No rabbits!"
I think my head spun all the way around ala Linda Blair this time. I walked over to take a look at what I thought could not possibly be. "You are really doing this to these bunnies? To parents? That's really not fair. This isn't a prize, it's an obligation. These poor things!" The girl behind the booth looked at me like the Mommy Monster had just returned and become the PETA monster. She backed away from me as I just shook my head. "Cute little bunnies", I muttered as I walked 'muck-muck-muck' away.

We found my son at the Shooting Gallery. Two dollars, shoot until you win. Here's what he won: four combs, five plastic rings, six balloons and 7 Chinese finger traps. That has got to be racial profiling at its' worst. Please don't tell me the Chinese are that easily amused.

We met Lenore at the Carnival exit near the Port-a-Potty. She was laden with gifts. Two large stuffed Sponge Bobs, one for each of the kids.
"I know you like Scooby-Doo!", she says gaily handing me a poor imitation of my favorite cartoon canine.
"Oh, how cute!", I commented, "Thank you."
"He doesn't look very much like Scooby," my daughter offered. The mother monster poked her in the ribs.
I looked at the creature. No, he didn't look like Scooby. He looked like Richard Nixon.

Muck, muck, muck we went from the carnival mud holes to the pavement. "Did you have fun?", I asked my darlings.
"Yes Mommy, thanks for taking us."
Thank God I only have to do this once a year.

Contributed by:
anne tatalin
©2002 anne tatalin
Website: Where's My Pants?