The carnival

The vendor offered fuzzy mittens. My coworkers said I was crazy to elect a trip to an outdoor theme park in winter. But the shuffle wait of the line up was coldest, blood pumped to skin top the second the rides ripped us away from gravity and flipped our heads above the ground.

The first ride had flames and spun in circles, stopping to let our hair dangle down at the bag-holders waving wildly and snapping photos of our mid air spread. Next was Aladdin’s carpet, which shot round and round, leaving my stomach ten feet above my head.

On to the world cup to be spun soccer balls, then the fun house of horrors, full of tilted floors and hallways dimmed in light. A pirate ship and a sled race; age-old bumper cars.

Best was the shot drop, a cannon launch into the air. The theme park looked a magic miniature from the tower-top, just as the metal above us clinked to our seat-backs and dropped us down.

And after all the excitement, the trolley back to the entrance never seemed so slow.