We had two hours in the car ahead of us; the sun was settling behind the trees on the ride up 95’, I was high as hell. My lady and I were on our way up to the fair for some late night munchies and to scare ourselves on poorly constructed rides operated by half drunk carnies.
I had a half of an Altoids tin of some berry-nice Ace of Spades, a mix of Jack the Ripper and Black Cherry Soda. I rolled up some of the sweet smelling bud between remarks from my girlfriend “Jesus Ian, that reeks- how much weed did you bring?!” The pungent aroma of an over ripe fruit basket decaying in a Cypress Hill tour bus stings the nostrils.
As soon as we arrive at the fair grounds I hop out of the car and take a brisk walk through the neighboring forest and suck down a couple joints like a vacuum cleaner at Tommy Chong’s house. Handing my ticket of entry to the toothless old man at the front gate, I could feel the Ace of Spades through my neck and back, readying me for an evening of jerky rides and endless walking.
We had arrived late at night, not that it seemed to matter- children and old people everywhere. This kind of situation normally stresses me out but the Ace had my back- relaxed I made my way to the first food stand of the night.
On the ride up I had some crappy gas station quesadilla and decided to pair that gut-wrenching monster with a steak bomb. The steak bomb I got was pretty crappy to be honest. It was obviously made with Steakums’ toped with cheese wiz and sloppy onions, it reminded me of college cooking. My girlfriend ordered poutine’, like any woman I love would, and I started to add potatoes and gravy to my concrete mixer of a stomach.
I finished the steak sandwich while waiting in line for a cheeseburger. The cheeseburger was absolutely disgusting- it tasted like the cow had been fed turds most of it’s life. I the half of the burger that I didn’t eat was thrown, three-point style, in the garbage on the way to our first ride.
We chose a terrifying looking spectacle called “The Tornado” where you are spun at two different speeds at the same time. We spent ten minutes being thrown around the early autumn air, directly following another joint in the woods. I was lucky to have the Ace up my sleeve, calming my stomach and quelling the new pain my back was in.
Newly sparked, we head to another ride, for reasons unknown I can’t remember the name. But it was basically a horizontal version of The Zipper, the drunk dude behind the controls kept giving me the metal horns with his fists as he pumped Guns and Roses through a small, busted amp next to the ride. I’m fairly certain the dude working the ride was trying to break it in an attempt to go home early, I had never been that tossed around that fast in my life.
That was enough, my back was killing me and my girlfriend had mixed too much spinning with too much poutine. We headed back to the car, but not before we both got cups of day-old chili; I finished mine before we hit the exit gate.
Feeling a little food sick I light up my last 4th dimensional firecracker and let the Ace of Spades battle the food fight in my belly. “Don’t fart in the car.” My girlfriend gives me an evil eye as we climb into the car. I shut my door, turn to her with a sparkle in my eye and announce “too late!”, because we’re at that point of our relationship.
Love, The Strainger