That Neon Night
A summer memory at the county fair.
Danielle and I ran around Merrill Field like maniacs. It was pouring rain and most of the families and carnival workers had taken refuge under the enclosed bumper car track. But not us, we didn’t care about the rain. We were out of college for the summer and feeling that first taste of freedom and ran around the wet grass from ride to ride.
And every ride had a wet seat. We were completely soaked though when we were finally done, looking as though we both jumped in a pool. The bottoms of our blue jeans had turned into mud and we were sliding on our sandals, laughing hard into each other’s shoulders. We decided to go home and clean up, but headed back out for round two later that night.
At night, our small town carnival was even better. We dragged her husband, Ryan, all around the park. We showed him all the attractions, like we knew everything there was to know about running county fairs. The local high school kids came out at night too. They hung out in packs, talked really loud (as if their importance to each other depended upon their loudness) and generally milled about like most awkward fourteen-year-olds. Gosh, I wouldn't go back to that age for anything.
Ryan refused rides. “They pack that stuff up into a truck and drive it around.” But he was a good sport about letting us have our fun. So Danielle and I rode everything yet again, taking it all in. And we screamed, maybe a bit too much, at the top of our lungs on the fastest ride in the park as Katy Perry’s Teenage Dream played over the loud speakers.
The neon lights were a blur against the night sky, and the popcorn salt and the cotton candy and the straw on the ground all blended together in a beautiful spinning whirl.
Photo sourced from Pinterest
