A day at the fair

So last Friday night Faith decides we need to go to the Georgia state fair. I love fairs, I think it's all the bright, flashing color lights - it suits my ADD or something.

We actually found the fair with little drama, mostly because of my getting lost in Perry previously, and we beat the evening crowd, also a plus. We first stopped by the horses and a strange number of farm-related displays for a non-Midwestern state to a very nice guy who conned us out of ten dollars and our confidence in our ability to throw a tennis ball into a plastic tub from five feet away. We also scored some cool sunglasses.

After wandering through the indoor displays we come out and Faith decides she wants to go on some rides - across the entire fair, probably a quarter mile. So, in a moment of insanity, we get the bright idea of taking the SkyGlide across the grounds instead. Sure, I'm completely and utterly terrified of heights but it's not like those things go especially fast or high (or so it looked from the ground).

Pushing my sense of foreboding aside, I gamely took my seat in the bench next to Faith. Five seconds later we're ten feet up in the air and I'm already white-knuckling it, one hand clutched to my purse like a security blanket, the other to the railing, telling Faith that this "really, really, really, really, really isn't a good idea". Then the total panic sets in as we rise to a good 20 feet above ground - I recite the Lord's Prayer in my head and stare resolutely at the purple bench ahead of me, willing myself to survive. Trying to pay attention to anything but how HIGH we are and how out in the the OPEN we are, and how there is a BREEZE rocking our seat. AND the rickety, creaky cable that separates us from CERTAIN DEATH.

Lemme tell you I can still recite every detail of that purple bench ahead of me and the guy sitting with his toddler aged daughter - his own KID - in a yellow bench ahead. The only thing I can imagine to make this scenario worse is also being responsible for a small child in your lap and worrying about THEM falling over as well. I tried to relax and enjoy the scenery but to no avail, mnostly I kept reminding myself that if I screamed hysterically for the fair workers to "GET ME OFF THIS RIDE RIGHT NOW" or passed out, that would probably be embarassing for Faith. You're welcome, Faith.

I think the worst part was that we were just sitting on a bench - if it had been enclosed I would have been okay (well, probably not) - but no, your legs just dangle down from the seat. DANGLE, people! In the air! TWENTY feet above ground. Plus I had to worry about keeping my slip on shoes, you know, on. Stress! Every few years I need an experience of total terror to remind me what a complete acrophobe I am. Thanks to Faith, I'm now good for the rest of my life.

So after the longest three minutes of my entire life, during which I could only muster one-word responses to Faith's observations (while being so tense and stressed that I could't even turn my head to look at her - if she had touched me I would have probably have screamed), we randomly run into some friend of hers from school and then come across a ride called the Super Himalaya, which I took a pass on but watched Faith ride. It wasn't high (or even off the ground) but looked nausea-enducing. I'm not much of a theme-park-ride kind of person, if you haven't noticed yet. But all-in-all, a good day at the fair -sans SkyGlide of course. It is made of EVIL. Taunting us chubby acrophobes with it's slow speed and 'safety railings'. AS IF.

Quote of the moment: "Did you know hot chocolate is hot?" - Amanda, who was thereafter banned from talking at the Sonic drive-thru.

Song of the moment: Oh No You Didn't! Didn't you? Oh no!