Twice a year, the carnival came to town.

They would always set up on the Route 19 ball field, which was a few miles from my house. I was always intrigued by the whole atmosphere that was created by the microcosm of humanity and the hegemony of the grifters who encompassed the entourage.

I was so enamored with the atmosphere that I would sometimes ride down to the ball field on my bike and watch from a distance as they assembled the rides and game spots. Most of the cast members were addicts of innumerable substances. They would attempt to work at a normal pace but after only a few minutes, they would succumb to the lure of the bong or the bottle. So, a job which would normally take only a few hours if one actually worked at it, would stretch on into two days.

I could say that I mixed readily with that environment and became one with them. However, that wasn’t the case. I only observed from afar. For example, in those days, the carnival side shows were quite risqué. I remember paying a quarter to enter a girly show and was immediately intimidated by what I saw. After entering the tent, I was directed to a small booth which was a four by four enclosure with a phone on one of the walls. I was told by one of the grifters to pick up the phone and talk. He then pulled the curtain behind him, which made the enclosure almost pitch dark. As I saw no other option, I reluctantly raised the mouthpiece off of its cradle and put it to my ear. Simultaneously, a shade slowly opened from the bottom to reveal a larger room with a comely naked girl on the other end of the phone line. There was a small cot located at the back of the room. I became befuddled by her beauty, the dirty cot and her closeness even though a glass wall separated us.

At this point, we exchanged some pleasantries before she popped the pertinent question. She said, “Would you like to join me on this side of the glass?” I looked at her for a minute and then said with some hesitation, “No, I came to watch the show, not to participate in it.” She let out a guttural, unintelligible sound and then pushed a button on the side of the wall. The shade between us then lowered to its original position. As it slowly descended, I wavered in my decision to not participate fully in this encounter, but firmly resisted. Then, one of the grifters opened the outer curtain, grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and unceremoniously dragged me out the back of the tent and gave me a swift kick in the pants. Man, those grifters are a tough bunch.

And the rides. I liked the one they called the Tilt a Whirl. It was a magnificent ride. It was a eight foot tall circular contraption with mesh enclosures aligned on the outer perimeter. The ride turned laterally on its center axis and also tilted away from the horizontal. The participants entered the contraption while it was parallel to the ground and were strapped into one of the perimeter enclosures. The ride started out slowly, then quickly gained momentum. As it approached full speed, the contraption then started to tilt away from parallel.

My buddies and I often played a game of chicken when the ride got to full speed and full tilt. Angular momentum forced us up against the outer walls of the ride and pinned us there. However, we could, if we struggled mightily, slowly edge our bodies up the enclosure and attempt to get above the upper level of the contraption. The goal was to get as far out of the contraption before the ride started to slow down and return to its resting position. I don’t know what would have happened if we had been able to get some part of our body out of the top of the contraption. Luckily, none of us were strong enough or maybe brave enough to move more than a few feet off of the floor of the ride. But we still claimed bragging rights for inching up the most.

My buddy Darrell did get up too high one night and then neglected to reposition himself before the ride began to slow down. When angular momentum decreased as the ride slowed, Darrell dropped to the floor of the ride and broke his left ankle. Luckily, that was the worst injury any of us suffered.

But, the ride that I enjoyed the most was the Ferris Wheel. It wasn’t a thrill ride in terms of a danger factor, but it was the best for odylic forces. That was a ride which was reserved for me and Sarah, the inamorata. As a generative allusion, I remember that it would take the promise of an act of congress to convince Sarah to ride the wheel.

To be continued…