It's in my blood.

The carnival came to town a few weeks ago and since I can't ride the rides anymore, I settled for a quick visit to get a freshly made corn dog. And don't forget the extra mustard. Hubby and I actually made it a mini date! Add cotton candy and it's instant romance. Well, OK, maybe not romance...but it was definitely amusing. (Get it? I didn't either at first...give it a minute, it'll come to you.)

I'm so sad that I can't ride the rides anymore. I have loved rides since I was 9 years old and rode The Tidal Wave for the first time with my dad at Great America. That was it, I was hooked. And the faster, the better. It doesn't matter, roller coasters, giant swings, Gravitron, even the jankety Zipper where you just know that this is gonna be the time that whatever you heard clanking around inside that cage was the very bolt needed to keep you attached to the ride.

Give me any roller coaster that goes upside down, any day...love, love, love it. Throw in a corkscrew for good measure...maybe even two...and I'm in heaven.

Sadly, it's been about five years since I rode a roller coaster. We had gone to Six Flags with family that was visiting from out of state. I was fine all day riding rides. But then came the last ride of the day...Medusa. Talk about upside down and corkscrews...not to mention crazy, steep drops...it was great! But...about halfway through...I began to feel...ill.  I couldn't believe it. The last time this had happened was about 10 years earlier, my last ride on The Zipper...I don't know what it was... age? hormones? (I'd just had Ian a few months earlier), equilibrium? I don't know. All I do know is that I couldn't wait for the ride to stop so I could get off. (And to think, in the past I'd always been the one screaming, "Faster!! Go again!")

Well, Medusa finally stopped. And I got off, feeling green, clammy and nauseated; I wobbled my way off the ride, taking deep breaths and willing myself to NOT throw up, as I slowly made my way out of the park, stopping periodically to lean on something, take deep breaths and hope for the best. Thank goodness we were on our way out anyway. I slept all the way home, went straight to bed when we got home and slept for two solid hours. When I woke up, I was good as new.

But man...I haven't forgotten it. And I haven't gone on Medusa since. I've been on other roller coasters...Kong, Roar, Boomerang, Hammerhead...but not Medusa. Not yet, anyway.

There is a kicker to the story...that day I rode Medusa, my back was really hurting. My brother in law offered me a Tylenol with Codeine. And...I took it. It was fine, and it made the pain go away, but I think it was also what made me feel so ill on the roller coaster. That's my theory anyway. I have yet to prove that theory as I've been two scared each time we've returned to Six Flags to ride Medusa again to test it out. Ya know, just in case the codeine isn't to blame and the reality is that I'm just too old.

I mean, that's gotta be it, right? The codeine? Right?

Anyway...it wasn't my intention to write about roller coasters. My intention was to write about corn dogs. And extra mustard. And cotton candy. And how the carnival is in my blood. (Have I mentioned I'm part carnie!?)

But...it's late, I'm tired and I got off track. So I'll have to save that story for another time...