Bright lights. Loud noises. A small child crying in the distance for his mother to buy him some fluffy, blue cotton candy. The carnival. A sight to see but a smell to forget.

The flashing lights draw me in. The games whisper my name, luring me to come play, to come waste my money on a rigged game set for my loss. So, I walk away.

Only to run into rides. Big rides and little rides. Fast rides and slow rides. Spinning and looping and shaking and twirling rides. I stand. Confused. There are so many attractions, with so little time, and even less money.

My clumsy feet start to move, almost tripping on the long dangling laces of my old brown sneakers. I weave between people not knowing where I’m headed. A siren screams in my ear from a nearby game stand. “WINNER! WINNER!”, the carney shouts. I keep walking. And walking. And walking. Until suddenly, my feet come to a hault.
Screams of joy, excitement, and fear fill the air. The bored, sweaty carney sits in his ticket booth for what seems to be the most popular ride. It’s tall and fast and twisty and turny. I stand in line, watching the ride continue. Money in hand. My stomach turns. “I probably shouldn’t have eaten that last funnel cake”, I think to myself.