Morning all and happy Monday. I hope you had a fabulous weekend. With the exception of the very high pollen count and gusts of ragweed, mine was good. I took some antihistamine and ended up at a lecture at the botanical gardens. Which oddly felt a bit like I suddenly entered a live action allergy relief commercial. Without the peeling back to reveal a clearer vision. So maybe I was in the knock off version commercial. But soon the ragweed will end. Well for this year anyway. Nothing really kills off ragweed. But for now, we kick off the week with the first of our morning prompts. So coffee down, timers set and off we go.
I like the set up. Not sure what it is setting up, but I like it. Or at least I like the guy who let himself get talked into the roller coaster and amusement park.
Monday, September 23rd: The drop sent his stomach rocketing into his throat.
The drop sent his stomach rocketing into his throat. He hated rollercoasters. He had always hated roller coasters. He didn’t like them ass a kid, or as a teenager and yet when he was smirked at for not liking them now and heard the comments of ‘too old’ he somehow found himself lining up with the others and taking a seat on the ride.
The others screamed around him. He couldn’t tell if they were actually enjoying themselves or letting out peals of terror to keep their eardrum from exploding. The pressure inside his ears felt like his head was soon to pop up like a pez dispenser. He imagined himself raining down candy on an unsuspecting crowd.
As they made their third loop, he hoped that he would simply manage to make it to the end without disgracing himself by vomiting on those around him before they reached the end of the line. He clenched his teeth and ordered his stomach to behave.
Miraculously it did. The ride slowed as they chugged back into the docking area. The sound was reminiscent of an old steam train. He knew that it was just the sound of the hydraulic mechanism as the ride came to a stand still but he found it off putting not to see an actual engine spouting steam.
The bar holding him in place lifted, releasing him from his seat. He tried not to think of how much it resembled the yoke for an oxen as he ducked out and managed to exit the ride. He managed to stand on his own and hide his inner wobbliness as he joined the others. Some looked distinctively more green and less steady than he felt. Many of the green ones were a great deal younger than he was. It made him feel just a little bit smug.
That one of the ones looking a little green was the one who claimed he was too old to enjoy such things made him feel somewhat vindicated about talking the ride in the first place. It was a victory for his age bracket. Orr so he told himself. He left with the others and Marla came over. She smiled and inside he melted.
“Thanks so much for going with them,” she said. “I am so glad a responsible adult was around.”
He offered her a tentative smile and felt like a demented babysitter. It hadn’t been the vibe he was going for. He followed the crowd away from the ride and watched how everyone shook off the effects and dove straight into the carnival food.
He watched and wondered if people still used the word vibe.
“You want one?” one of the others asked. He forgot the name. Several of the men all more or less looked alike. Part of that was the same gene pull from which they all sprang, the features similar. The nearly identical clothes and haircuts didn’t help eliminate his confusion. He looked at the food being offered and shook his head.
“And don’t say its because I am old,” he said. “That doesn’t look like it should be consumed by anyone of any age.”
The man smiled. “I’m pretty sure that’s what the kids would say an old man would tell them,” he replied with a grin before heading off to join another line. He stepped back and watched. There were lines everywhere. Everything from food and rides, to the bathroom and shopping required some sort of line. The stores were so small that patrons had to line up to get in and then line up to pay. He imagined it as some sort off conveyor belt and tried to picture anything he would want to buy that would cause him to step up. He shook his head, realizing this was a mistake. He shouldn’t have come.
‘It was the smile,’ he thought the image of Marla springing into his mind. ‘Although the expansive display of cleavage didn’t hurt.’ He glanced over and saw one of the generic men give her a squeeze and he felt like an idiot.
Ten til Midnight 