Brooks Seymore
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There are two kinds of people in this world: people who love carnival rides and those who don’t.
For the people who don’t love them, they are jerky and uncomfortable, and comprise of minutes of unadulterated spinning and flipping at speeds normally inaccessible to humans. The air is full of the sounds of shrieks and laughter and the smells of sugar and grease. The entire experience is punctuated by perilously churning insides. It is awful.
For the people who do love them, they are jerky and uncomfortable, and comprise of minutes of unadulterated spinning and flipping at speeds normally inaccessible to humans. The air is full of the sounds of shrieks and laughter and the smells of sugar and grease. The entire experience is punctuated by perilously churning insides. It is awesome.
Even so, no matter what type of person you are, no matter if you love carnival rides or you don’t, seeing a vacant one in the midst of a puddle-filled concrete lot serves as an instant reminder that summer is gone once again, and the cotton candy will have to wait for next year.
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