The Merry-Go-Round

When I was in high school, my friend Brenda and I went to one of those carnivals in a shopping mall parking lot that unfold overnight out of suitcases. We roamed around admiring the carnival workers with their interesting attire, and rode several rides. After a while we ended up on The Octopus, which spun around at a dizzying speed while its arms flailed about. We were in our own pod at the end of an arm. It was great fun, and the carny operator, feeling magnanimous, shouted out an invitation for us to take another turn for free if we liked.

We did like, and we said so with enthusiasm. Here is where I should tell you that I had recently enjoyed a grilled steak, baked potato, and home-grown salad from Dad's garden before embarking for the glitter of the carnival. My stomach was already rumbling during the first spin, but we were whirled off on another round before it could shout "NO" to the nice man's invitation. After all, who in their right mind would turn down a free offer at an enterprise that was designed to turn you on your heels and shake all the silver out of your pockets?

Well, you know what happened, so I won't go into details. Brenda exited our soiled pod covered in my dinner, and the carnival man was disgusted at being repaid for his largess with a nasty clean-up chore. Brenda & I tucked our tails between our legs and headed home post-haste.

I don't remember whether we rode the merry-go-round. If it was an all-inclusive ticket we may have, but if it was a pay-as-you-ride establishment we probably passed it by. Personally, I think merry-go-rounds are fairly dull. They look pretty, and they are certainly iconic, but most of the riders' faces you see rotate past look a little bored. No wonder, all you do is go around and around to that loopy music, and most of the horsies don't even go up and down.

I ought to know, I spent several years on a merry-go-round with a gin bottle in my hand. It looked like it would be great fun, and it was for a while. The lights were bright, the horses were painted prettily, and the music was peppy. I paid a high price for the ticket, but I was told it could be a life-long ride of fun. I chose a horse named Tanqueray. We went around and around.

And around and around and around and around and around.

My mare, which had looked so elegant from a distance, showed peeling paint when I looked at her closely. The canopy of bright lights had bulbs that were burning out. And, God help me, that music that had sounded so enticing at first would drive anyone insane. Why hadn't I noticed that it was an endless loop of the same melody playing over and over? The strongest mind would be driven mad after a while. I looked around me, but none of the other horses were in any better shape, there was no brighter spot on the ride, and that damned music was inescapable. My fellow riders wore glazed expressions of hopelessness. We were on the same ride, but we were each all alone.

That lifetime ticket looked less like a bargain and more like a sentence. I finally decided to jump off this crazy ride. This was scary, because the merry-go-round was turning faster than when I first got in the saddle. I ducked and rolled, and I crawled away bleeding and bruised. A crowd gathered around me, and someone pressed a white chip in my palm - a token for a new ride.

So I climbed on the roller-coaster, and off I went. There was a slow, steady ascent, and I could see all over the park. People were laughing and having fun. They were eating corn dogs and cotton candy, and playing games of chance. The breeze felt good on my face. I closed my eyes and relaxed.

And then came a gut-wrenching plummet, and I held on for dear life. With a whoosh I was up again. It was exhilarating! My fellow riders screamed with joy, and I suddenly realized that I was screaming along with them! I thought I had lost my voice back on that boring merry-go-round, but we were all looking at each other, wild-eyed with amazement, as we careened around curves. What was next? The anticipation could be a little scary, but this was living! We saluted each other when we survived the plummets, because we knew we would be lifted up again.

We also knew that we would leave this wild ride after a time to wander through the rest of the carnival. There was so much more to experience, and although the excitement level might be a notch lower on the ground, it would be even more fulfilling. The activities to experience were endless, and there were so many people to meet and have fun with.

We also knew, because we pledged this to each other as we neared the end of the roller-coaster ride, that a time would come when we would gather together at the edge of the merry-go-round. We would wait for the next desperate riders to leap off, and we would gather around them. We would lift them up and dust them off.

And some of us would reach in our pockets for a token, and press it in their bruised palms for a ride on the roller-coaster. We would all pray that they would take that ride. We knew what a trap the once-seductive merry-go-round truly was, and we were grateful that others were there when we finally jumped off in search of something better.

My thanks go out to Betsy for inspiring these musings.