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Everybody remembers going to the local fair. It’s warm outside and the day is long. You arrive, buy your handful of tickets for rides and games. I know, it’s wristbands now, but in my day, it was tickets. The music is blaring from the rides and the carnies are yelling out to passersby, “Win a prize!” The smell of corn dogs and polish sausage fill the air. Funnel cakes are obtained and eaten. And at the end of the day, the sun sets and the lights come on.
One of my earliest memories is of being at a fair (“riding devices” the folks called it) and becoming separated from them. A burly policeman (well, in some kind of uniform) bought me a candy apple and walked about, carrying me, until we encountered my frantic parents.
What a great fair story! Thanks for sharing!
Love the echoes of pink red tints throughout – gives me a real sense of the flux and fun of an old time fair, Sharon! :)
Thank you, Felipe!