I don't proofread my posts before I publish them... cause I keep my thoughts au naturale.

Monday, August 30, 2010

The Watermelon Festival

As you may or may not know, I might be a hick from the sticks.  I live in a rural area, so every summer the even smaller towns hold festivals honoring a fruit or vegetable of sorts.  There's the grape festival, sweet corn festival and watermelon festival- I'm sure there's more, but I can't think of them right now.

Anyway, I'm told that the watermelon festival is hands down the only one worth attending.  I recall going in high school and having fun.  But, having a fun hater for a husband, I haven't been in years.  Well, now that A is four, I can have lots more fun with her.  So, I resolved to take her to the watermelon festival.  I learned that I am apparently an old fart when it comes to rides and my daughter is a thrill seeker.  I also learned never to trust a carnie because some of them seem to have a God-complex.

So, we went.  The first 10 minutes ended with watching a verbal fight ensue between some trashy people who released some f-bombs and biznatches in front of not only their children, but about 30 other children in the vicinity.  Oh, the classy people that walk amongst us! 

So, my daughter was all excited about the rides.  I was not so much excited, because for some reason, I am a wuss when it comes to my life flashing before my eyes.  Well, the first ride she wanted to go on was this whirly thing that spun you up, down and around.  I seriously about tossed my cookies.  I was so disappointed in myself.  Of course, I wasn't gonna be THAT mom that barfed all over an amusement ride, so I held it in.

Well, as the night progressed we ran into some friends.  One of whom was more than willing to take A on that ship ride that swings like a pendulum.  There I was, watching in amazement as my four year old went on ride after ride after ride while I stood in awe of her braveness.  After some rides, we ate the required free watermelon, checked out the games and ridiculously priced food.  Then, it was getting near time to go.  I had purchased tickets in lieu of the $15 arm-bands that let you ride as many rides as you wanted all night.  A and a friend's daughter Z decided they wanted to go on "Moby Dick."  This ride is too horror-evoking to explain.  All of the adults looked around at each other to see who was going to volunteer to take the kidlets on the ride... and silence... and finger pointing... and silence.  So, finally I say that I will do it because guilt at the idea of these kids not getting to ride this last ride was more overwhelming than my fear and potential nausea.

This ride was a whopping 5 tickets a person and I only had 8.  So, an acquaintance happened by and offered me her bracelet.  I figured I could rig it up on my wrist somehow, so right in front of this carnie game woman who looked like she was ridiculed in high school for being an uber-dike and an ugly one to boot, glared at us as if we were plotting to steal the Hope Diamond.  So I get in line with A and Z and we wait our turn.  Well, said carnie woman comes trotting (or should I say manly striding) over to the man operating the ride.  She tries to be all nonchalant, but I know her type... she's a narc... a big ole narcy narc narc face.  So, I say to my friends, "20 bucks says she just ratted me out to that dude."  I have one of my friends go snag me 2 more tickets and I give up on the recycled bracelet idea.

We go to get on the ride and the man nicely takes my tickets.  I can barely bring myself to relay what happened next.  I clung to dear life to my harness.  I closed my eyes as tight as humanly possible.  It was death coming for me.  It was a nightmare.  I didn't scream, cause once again, I didn't wanna be THAT mom.  But, some random 8 year old sitting next to me yelled, "Open your eyes you're an adult!!"  If I weren't on that ride...

And it ended.  With most of my body still in tact, I walked slowly over to my friends.  It was over... I was alive.  And here's the kicker...  while I was on the ride, the dude operating it called over ole' beefcake Yolanda and laughingly told her that I paid with tickets.  AHA!!!  Take that, Nazi!  And go back to your loserville Loser McLosenstein corner... eat it... with a spoon.... *dancing*  I showed the carnie who had the college degree... woot, woot...

And now I'm  THAT mom... the judgmental one who makes fun of carnie folk... *sigh*

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