A Carnival Kind of Night

July 27, 2013 — The carnival was small enough that I could have shoplifted the whole thing, but it had what we needed: rides, food, and highly flammable stuffed animal prizes.

Last night we found ourselves in rural Maryland and, in between highway exits that seemed to only lead to cornfields and horse farms, we discovered the Jefferson Carnival.

As small as it was, we somehow ended up there for almost four hours. It’s just hard to pull away from that kind of ambiance, to go from sugar-scented air and spinning lights, screaming teens and the accurate insults of that guy who always heckles me to test my strength, to the bland hum of an air conditioner, the dim glow of a television, and the flat taste of refrigerated food.

It was one of those night where I was simultaneously doing nothing and doing everything, so I ended up Instagramming the whole evening in situ. Here’s how it went down, with little objective distance and a couple of pictures added.

I'm at a carnival. Hopefully.

My kid is stuck at the top of a funhouse, so I'm Instagramming  and pretending not to be
related. [Later] The staff has been sent to rescue her. Hopefully they can find her father.

Just concentrate on the fact that you need new shoes.
Just concentrate on the fact that you need new shoes.
Just concentrate on the fact that you need new shoes.

It's the quite ones you've gotta watch out for. Ferris Wheels are scarier than I remember.

Blew my dinner cash on this.

What I win my wife at carnival games: consolation prizes.
It's kind of like real life for her.

Getting dusky. Lost Boys should be out soon.

About to do the Round Up. Peer pressure from the niece. Sigh.

View from the outside courtesy of my not-nauseous and dizzy wife.

Goodbye, carnival. One day you'll be the death of me, but not tonight.