One journalist's musings about the beautiful, bizarre world in which we live
I have a very sensitive ear. Specifically, my left one.
With this good ear, however, comes a sensitive inner ear. Meaning changes in altitude affect me quite a bit. Meaning upside-down, spinning rides throw me, often into the bathroom.
Knowing full well that I would puke, I decided to go on a midway ride at Lac La Biche’s Pow Wow Days this weekend.
So I jumped into this itty-bitty bug-like cage with a fellow Lac-La-Bichian reporter. His right ear is probably still ringing from my screams, poor fellow.
Up and down. Up and down. Past the carny in a purple shirt, cigarette hanging off his lip. Up-up-up, where the camera banged me on my chin. Down-down-down, where the mechanisms whirled beneath.
Forward into the air, backward like a swing. Up and over the bar. Back-forth-back. Up-stall-back. Just writing this is making me queasy.
I waddled off the ride into the shade, where I took a little breather before tottering further to a toilet.
“Why?” I am sure you are asking, while shaking your head at my masochism.
I love the rides. I love to be tossed around by machinery like a rag doll in a washing machine. I love roller coasters — the crazier and the more upside-downy, the better. Why should I have to give this up to avoid a second tasting of lunch?
Or maybe, I like that it’s a test of what I can handle. It’s like hiking hard until I fall or staying awake until I pass out. I’m still alive, still writing and living. It didn’t kill me; it made me stronger.