Funfair Ride For a Middle-Aged Man
A trip to the seaside.
We woke up unusually early on Saturday. Had breakfast, jumped in a car and drove to a sunny seaside of West Sussex.
We walked towards the white cliffs of Seaford. I wanted to get to the top of them but instead, we end up going to a funfair.
I am not a big fan of funfairs, but my twelve-year-old daughter has a different opinion about them — she loves them. When I was her age I loved them too but today I despise them. They are money-grabbing, artificial happiness generators.
We walked from one attraction to another, deciding which ride we should jump on. My wife insisted that I should join my daughter on one of them.
We looked at one ride which swang people in three directions at the same time, my daughter's eyes lit with excitement. Only looking at the ride I felt sick in my stomach.
I REFUSED!
I looked around and noticed another ride, a bit more civil. It looked like a giant swing. “ I can go on this one”, I said to my not so little one.
Tightly strapped to chairs, we started to swing and turn around. So far so good. And then it dawned on me that I was looking at the ride from the ground level but now I am on it and it will tier my soul apart. My daughter screaming, it’s fun and games for her.
The higher we went, the quieter my daughter became. “Hey, are you ok”, I shouted. Silence.
“Are you ok!?!” “
“Yes!” she answered in a not-so-sure way.
“Just breathe and enjoy the ride”!
What else I could say, nothing depended on me or her. The bloody piece of metal was in charge now.
Up and down and up again.
Soon the swing started to slow down, my daughter laughed, I laughed together with her.
“ Did you enjoy it ?”, I asked.
“ I want to go on it again”, she shouted back to me.
Kids have no long-lasting fear, a moment ago she was petrified and now, she wanted to go back on it again. Sometimes I wish that I could turn clocks back and be a small boy without a care in my heart.
