HAVERTIGO

I love it when carnivals come to town. The sweet smell of cotton candy and caramel corn permeating the air takes me back in time. There’s generally a carnival at the Havasu Balloon Festival, and years ago, one came to Lake Havasu City about once a year, setting up on an open lot on Lake Havasu Avenue. I don’t believe it’s been there for some time now.

My family first visited Disneyland in 1957, when there were many more “stress free” attractions for little kids back then. For me, three years old at the time, Disneyland was a large carnival. I liked the Teacups and vintage automobile rides best, avoiding anything beyond that level of excitement.

My late dad’s favorite was a 3-D theatre attraction called: Rocket to the Moon.  This venue was located inside a building which sat opposite a futuristic looking rocket. Ticket holders sat in chairs watching this supposedly realistic movie about a rocket ride to the moon and back. I wouldn’t know—never surviving blastoff. The mere resemblance of motion was enough to turn my stomach inside out. Mom grabbed my sick carcass from a chair just in the nick of time, although someone did have to cleanup the concrete walkway afterwards.

I remember my first carnival roller coaster. It was in Selma, Alabama, either in 1961 or 1962. My brother and I climbed in the front car, and after only a few times around, I was screaming to the top of my lungs wanting out. Mom once again filled me in on the rest. Seeing that I was petrified with fear, she asked the person running this ride to please stop and let me off—which he did. To this day, I’ve refused to get on another roller coaster and never will.

My brother, a couple of years later in Lubbock, Texas, coaxed me into riding a mechanical creation called the Tilt-A-Whirl. He said it wasn’t bad—most likely thinking of scary carnival rides he’d been on before like: The Hammer and The Scrambler. Jim could conquer them all with no problem, including that wild roller coaster in Las Vegas named: High Roller.

Telling myself that I’d be okay that night, I came uncorked before the Tilt-A-Whirl ride ended, sending spray everywhere. I’m sure that wasn’t the first time this happened. From that point on, the only carnival ride I’ve taken part in is a Ferris Wheel. To me, they’re much like a giant swing set and my stomach can handle things with ease.

In 1972, having just graduated from high school, three friends from East High, along with me, late one night went to a small carnival next to the Valu-Mart shopping center. All went well until Jeff, Michelle, and Cathy, decided we needed to ride the Tilt-A Whirl. I wasn’t keen on the idea, remembering the last time I tried such, but didn’t want to come across as being wimpy.

Making it through the whole ordeal without getting sick, I quickly excused myself after getting off, finding a spot behind the generator trailer to hurl. My friends never knew. The next morning around five, noticing my wallet was missing, I drove back to that carnival, checking different Tilt-A-Whirl cars until finding it on the floor of one.

It was probably a good thing, because a former carnival employee told me that after closing, “carnies” have a field day going through all the rides looking for lost change, money, wallets, clutch purses, jewelry, and watches. He mentioned they found others things as well like baggies of pot and coke. This guy said that The Hammer and Scrambler were the worst for robbing people of their earthly goods along with breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

I always wondered why I couldn’t handle extreme rides like other kids, not finding out until age 40 that I have vertigo, along with something called Meniere’s Disease. Without going into a long drawn-out medical explanation, both ailments have something to do with the inner ear. With a carnival slated to return to the Havasu Balloon Festival in 2024, I was prepared to give the Tilt-A-Whirl one last try, just to prove I can master it without getting sick.

After recently reading about a carnival in Canada having one of their Tilt-A-Whirl cars come completely off its circular track when a large pin broke, injuring several people, plans have quickly changed. I’ll still be going to that carnival, riding their Ferris Wheel and eating caramel corn, while pulling sticky cotton candy from my beard and shirt. If there’s a Tilt-A-Whirl, Hammer, or Scrambler at this venue, I’ll give them wide berth while walking past. You see, I don’t want anyone’s spray coming my way.