nostalgia - not so much

I did it again. I said that I wouldn't, but, I was lured by the promise of fried dough. I was weak. I went to the fair. There are so many reasons that the fair only makes a stop in Cumberland once a year and the main one is so that we can all forget why we said that we will never go back there ever, ever again. My husband offered (actually, strongly insisted) that he drive, probably because he knew that we would get halfway there and I would pull a 180 in the middle of the road and bail on the whole outing altogether. He is wicked smart. My hand was on the door and I was ready to jump out of the moving vehicle and run all the way home (wee wee wee) until I saw the looks on the children's faces. I should suck it up and deal with my carnival issues and just go with the flow for once, right? Remember apple picking? I am never going to be the go with the flow kind of mom. As I was losing a battle with internal, nervous, neurotic Sarah and clutching the little hands of the blonde kids that I adore so much, the ticket lady waved at me with her dirty sausage fingers and invited me in to have fun. Please keep in mind that I am an equal opportunity person and that I, in no way, shape or form believe that I am better than anyone else on the entire green planet, but when I say that I am in awe of the people that I saw last night, I am in awe of the people that I saw last night. Do they travel with the fair? Were they beamed here from outer space? A large man with a ratty ponytail and an embellished Fedora sped past me on a Rascal scooter. I saw a toothless man with a lime green fur trimmed leopard spotted cowboy hat blowing bubbles (bubbles!) into a ticket booth. The air was heavy with funnel cakes, french fries and pheromones (oozing from teenaged females in tiny clothes and boys with a single purpose). I took my girls on the carosel, carosHELL is what it should have been called. I think that since it was bracelet night, the carnies (small hands...) had to speed up the long lines by speeding up (30 go rounds in 37 seconds) the rides. I was afraid that the horse my toddler was riding on was going to come of the track and catapault her into Falmouth! Thing 1 and Thing 2 wasted the remainder of their tickets on the Tropical Rock (climbing structure on the back of a lowboy) and emerged with tears, a dislocated shoulder and something sticky in their hair. No amount of hand sanitizer could fix this, ew. The father of this brood got spit on. We almost left with a bunny. We wasted time, money and nerves on this and do you know what? The kids can't wait to go back next year. No way. Nope. Maybe.