I feel like I went to more carnivals as a kid than most human beings. But maybe they were more common in the late 70s and 80s? (I base that on nothing.) I know that the high school behind our house would let one set up shop annually in its large parking lot. So we went every single year. Then one would set up in a field a mile or so from that high school. We spent a lot of time every year visiting multiple carnivals. An annual tradition. In fact, a very comforting sound during the summer months, as I slept in my room, would be the strange humming and mechanical exhales from the big, tired machines that traveled on the backs of trucks from state to state. You'd hear people laughing and screaming late into the night. We'd lean against our bedroom screen window and look to the right, past some large trees behind our house that lined the perimeter of the high school. You could see the fluorescent tube lighting that dotted each obnoxious ride, like those small ufo's that showed up at the end of
Close Encounters of the Third Kind - with every assortment, color, and combination of lights. I recall the year
The Octopus arrived. A massive angry thing that would spin with its giant wavy arms. It raised and lowered shrieking teens as an extremely loud hydraulic burst of air would be released that sounded more like scraping metal about to catapult the patrons against the side of the school. Or our house.
And we loved it.
We would go unchaperoned, of course. We'd win small stuffed animals that smelled like dust. Or wood-framed mirrors that said Jack Daniels or Twisted Sister. And one time you could even win a small bowl with a real goldfish in there (imagine that horrible fate... being a carnival fish).
Well, I can think of a worse fate. The Carny.
Where do they come from? Who were they? Do they travel with the carnival? Are they hired as part time employment when the carnival is scheduled to arrive? I do know this: they were scary. And they unnerved us. Silent and tired, smelling of tobacco and grease. They were like something you'd read about in a Ray Bradbury story where they'd just appear from a summer storm. Like those rare ones when you can smell the hot concrete being cooled by large heavy drops of rain.
Or they were just people down on their luck in need of work. Or they were happy and enjoyed the freedom of moving from one location to another, providing thrills and joy. But the only problem there is that they never EVER appeared to be happy. In fact, it was always the contrary. They seemed to be a million miles away, while operating a machine that could literally kill you. They seemed to be miserable. And worse: Resentful of our presence.
One particular evening, late into the night, we boarded the Round Up (the ride at the top of this blog post). Pretty standard by way of carnival rides. The carny at the controls angrily gave us instructions as we boarded the ride: "When the ride ends, DON'T exit until it comes to a complete stop." He seemed really mad about this.
The ride spun us. It rose and fell, like a hubcap spinning on the ground. We laughed and shouted and marveled at our bodies being squished by centrifugal force. And then the carny ended the ride and the Round Up began slowing. It leveled off as it spun slower and slower. Just as it was about to stop spinning, we all exited our weird cubbies along the circular wall of the thing. We undid the cheap chains at waist level that would have provided zero support in the event of an accident.
If you recall, this was in complete violation of the carny's pre-ride instructions. And he became furious, but in his cold carny way. So, he simply turned the ride back on. Imagine being a child and realizing you were in the middle of a ride that was about to accelerate to a point of pressing you to death. I can't stress the extreme fear we had as we ran to the walls which were now a blur as this metal horror started to rise again on one side. We were all terrified. And the carny knew it. He was smiling with his unsmiling mouth; I was certain of it.
But then something more terrifying happened. He spun us for an exceptionally long period of time. I recall believing I would die on that thing. That actually isn't an embellishment in the least. He kept it at top speed until we were all lifeless and crushed, and on the verge of tears and panic. He tried to kill us.
So it finally comes to a rest and this nightmare of a man has won his battle with a bunch of ten-year-old kids. We waited to exit. Waited until that thing was frozen still. I wish I did one of those splits where you crotch-punch someone as I exited the ride past the carny, but I'm certain they would have found me the next morning in the local creek. Face down.
Here's pretty much what the carny looked like:
