I wanna go to the carnival...

It's August: the heat and humidity have returned, kids are buying school clothes, the potatoes in dad's garden are ready to dig up, and like all these late summer traditions, another one is taking place as well: The Waynesboro Volunteer Fireman's Carnival is in town.

Whoop-de-freakin-do.

You see, boys and girls, when Uncle Polt was a wee lad (no, he wasn't always the fat, old, hairy fag you see today), I used to look forward to the carnival with mixed emotions.

I was excited about it because it meant I could go there with the neighborhood gang, with all the bright revolving lights, and delicious smells of cotton candy and candied apples, and the hot dogs, burgers and fries, and the sounds of laughter and the rides running, and kids squealing, and all sorts of various and sundry buzzers and dingers and ringers, and knowing that I'd see some people that I went to school with and hadn't seen all summer and figuring out who I was gonna have what class with.

At the same time, I was dreading it coming because that meant that summer was almost over and school would soon be starting. But generally, the excitment overwhelmed the dread.

Now, mind you, this was back during the period of President Carter, disco, Saturday Night Fever, Laverne & Shirley, etc, etc, etc. Hell, I first heard Billy Joel's "Moving Out" being played through the open windows of a huge "Smokey And The Bandit" type Trans Am while it's owner and his buddy sat inside and smoked....something that didn't smell like dad's Marlboro's, on my way to walking to the carnival.

Back then, that was the biggest thrill I had all summer....aside from kissing Kristi on the lips that one year...but that's a whole different story...

But NOW......

Oh, it's horrible. I don't know if it was always this bad and I just saw it through the excitment of a teenager, or if it just got worse as time went on. (I like to think it's the latter) Now, it's all neon, and grime, and scuzzy, greasy people fresh from the trailer park. When I was there (I'll get to that in a minute) I noticed there were either complete and total rednecks, trailer trash, or, strangely, goth kids. Go figure.

The one thing that I do still like about the carnival is the hamburger and french fries. I dont know if it's the accumulated years of grease on the cookers, or some special, yet disgusting, ingredient they add to everything, or maybe its a special toxicity that lingers from their cleaning agents, whatever. They have a unique (and by unique I mean good) smell and taste. So one night during the week, I go down and get a burger and fries. Needless to say, I got before the sun sets because God only knows what sewers the evening patrons have climbed out of.

To illustrate the sad state of affairs, I've got photos:

I assure you, these pictures are insufficient to properly convey the sadness and patheticness of the carnival itself. Which is exceeded only by it patrons, that arrive at 600pm and hang out until like midnight or whatever. And i'm not talking about teenagers with stars in the eyes, but like people in thier 20's, 40's, or older.

I think this carnival is best summed up by the song from which I took the post's title: Carnival, by Bikini Kill. I goes something like this:

/This is a song about the seedy underbelly of the carnival /The part that only the kids know about /This is a song about 16 year old girls giving carnies head /For free rides and hits of pot /I wanna go, i wanna go /I wanna go to the carnival /But it costs $16 yeah /I wanna go to the carnival /But i know it costs $16 now /Round, round, round... /Ill win that motley crue mirror, /If it fucking kills me /Gonna lose $20 while i'm there /See the girls with the feathered hair /They're wearing plastic, not real leather /Boots that go way up to there /Round, round, round... /It's by the lacey mall, /That's where you'll find me, yeah

Yep. I think that about wraps it up.

POLT

No one ever got anal warts from a chat room. - Mike, Queer As Folk