If someone could kindly make the room stop spinning when you’ve got a free second, I’d certainly appreciate it…

You see, this is exactly why I have a steadfast rule – no crazy, upside-down carnival rides! There are some experiences that the human body, and more specifically the human stomach, simply isn’t equipped to handle. Horrible experiences, in fact, that if you were to consult with God / Buddha / the Almighty Creator of your choice, they would be quick to explain how humanity was most certainly never intended to endure such twists and turns at inhuman velocities, and don’t even get me started on the loop-de-loops! Nope, call me stubborn, but over the years if I’ve learned anything at all, it’s that my own particular body is preferential to the standard, head-up / feet-down orientation and as far as I’m concerned, I’m ok with that!

So why did I do it, then?

In an attempt to back up our story and fill you in on the details for those who didn’t happen to be privy to the incident, the day was Saturday, February 19th – the place was the Florida State Fairgrounds, just outside of Tampa. My little sister just so happened to be in town for the weekend visiting and I’d somehow gotten the old, Northern Michigan standby tune stuck in my head, “Goin’ to the fair, goin’ to the fair…” so I’d concluded with the idea that it might be fun to go out and experience a few hours down at the fair while she was here. With my girlfriend at one side and sister at the other, we proceeded through that old, ruckety turnstile with mucho gusto…and that, my friends, was the last mistake that I’d have the chance to make…

It only takes a little further back story to explain that my sister and I had somewhat become accustomed to the fair scene up north, often frequenting the midway to check out the latest crazies and cast judgment with regards to which carnies a mother would most feel comfortable entrusting the safety of their children to – fun stuff, really, but no matter how enticing the year’s offerings might happen to appear, we always had one single ground rule…Scott’s feet never leave the ground. And while some may deem it to be old-fashioned and uninspired, I retort by simply stating that, “I don’t want to die.”

So fast-forward back to our scenario and what do we suddenly have before us? Why only what quite possibly appears to be the most intimidating and detrimental carnival ride ever conceived onto God’s green Earth. Simply gazing up at this towering deathtrap, one can only imagine how this mechanical monster ever came to be, as it’s quite clear to recognize that such torture could never be inflicted by my fellow man. Trembling uncontrollably as we approached the menace, I heard the most frightening phrase to anyone playing host to guests from out of town, “Ooh – that looks fun! Let’s do that!!!”

The ride in question was entitled “The Zipper” – maybe you’ve heard of it. For some reason unbeknownst to my mind, its creator decided that it would be quite some fun to take a whole slew of carnival-goers, pack them two-by-two into flimsy, slightly-padded steel cages, and then proceed to whip those cages around on a central axis, ignoring all previous laws of gravity, physics, and projectile vomiting. The experience was to cost about ten bucks a piece, my guess simply to distract patrons from the inevitable doom which they were about to endure, and amazingly, it worked because there I was – kissing my girlfriend goodbye as my sister and I boarded a “padded” cage aimed directly at the bowels of hell. As I heard those first bolts creak with the start of the dreaded machine, I began to wonder if it was too late to find religion…

Now I can’t honestly even describe the experience justly with words, but anyone else who’s been down this lane can vouch that at the very least, five minutes on “The Zipper” is enough to make your average rider denounce the last twenty years of their sins, reconcile any differences he or she might have with the person next to them, and explore a whirlwind debate over whether or not carnies as a whole are adequately compensated for their construction efforts of the deathtraps towering over our nation’s fairgrounds. I could also possibly mention that the trip somehow manages to empty your pockets of any coinage, car keys, and cellular phones that you might’ve forgotten to remove prior to boarding, but looking back on the situation, I think when it finally ended I was just happy to be on solid ground again.

The morale of today’s story, my friends, is don’t succumb to peer pressure, and even more so, don’t succumb to sibling pressure – it’ll get you every time unless you’re able to remain at the top of your game. Also, do your homework to examine the tourist possibilities a little more in advance and, if they exist, take whatever steps necessary to prevent all exposure to such promotional activities to prevent that dreaded, “Ooh – let’s go there!”

Besides, living here in Florida, there’s always the beach and until them sharks figure out how to mosey up on land, I think that I should be relatively safe there. Anything else, though, and you’re on your own…