The air was brisk, and it stings at your skin. You evade the shudder, that crawls up your spine. Excitement is too great; it curls in your stomach resulting in a strange pleasurable feeling. Bright lights outshine the sky, spinning things, things that go upside down. Screams that are filled with pure joy make your ears ache. The smell of too sweet cotton-candy, and too buttery pop-corn, and this dirty stench, that emits from the rides, that make your throat itch, and your eyes burn, overwhelms your nostrils. People push, and glide past you, thoughts on them, them, them, not you, or anyone else for that matter.
You tug on daddy’s arm, “I wanna go on that one,” you say. You’re pointing at one, with flashing lights; it’s an upright wheel with passenger cars connected to its long metal appendages that go around and around, the Ferris wheel.
He nods, and takes you by your pudgy, clammy, and oh so tiny, hand. His hand feels so large, and warm. So comforting.
You two walk, the crowd of people brush and bump your shoulders, no “sorry’s” or “excuse me‘s”. Your feet come in contact with the rocky ground, makes a crunching noise.
The both of you finally come to a halt, standing behind a long, seemingly never ending line. You can almost taste the salty sweat that the person in front of you gave off. But, before you know it, you’re at the front of the line, and you’re seated in a box like compartment. The box, jerks, sending you forward, the hand gripping your shoulder keeps you in place.
Your surroundings start to move, the people below start to look like ants, the other rides, aren’t as tall. You can see everything. Like the twinkling specs from broad buildings, and the cars zooming down the highway, their headlights adding to the abundance of light. You feel so big. You’re on top of the word. Invincible.
It doesn’t hit you that your just about as insignificant as a grain of sand, and that the world is so big, and you can’t make a difference unless you go against all the morals taught to you as a child. You’ll have to lie and cheat to make a difference. And even if you don’t make a difference, you’ll be the person who will tolerate the lying and the cheating. But none of this hits you. The only thing that is on your mind is daddy’s hand in yours and the pretty stars in the sky. And maybe whether or no daddy will allow you to get a cotton candy when you get down.
This place may seem like a dreadful place to anyone with eyes dimmed with cynicism, but through the
un-jaded, naive eyes of a child, it was never ending perfection.