While leaving a routine mammogram at Midland Breast, I spotted a Ferris wheel in clear blue sky and got hyper-excited like a kid overdosed on cotton candy.
A fair was coming to town!
By golly, I was going that upcoming weekend, alone if necessary. But whether he liked it or not, my husband would go, and probably a few friends. I’ll buy the tickets. Enthusiastic like a child, I skipped back to my car and left the medical facility to take a closer look.
As other breast cancer survivors know, there’s relief after every six-month ordeal. (If something is wrong, you are alerted before leaving, then have a sit-down with the nurse and radiologist.) So, there is liberty and alleviation of any stress when you exit without confrontation.
A fair, and I’ll be there!
First, back to the breast exam. As always, I call my husband Trey when he’s not with me, to say “Jenifer” (Dumire) didn’t appear. She’s a blessing and treasure, but when navigation nurse emerges, it almost reminds me of “Andrew” on “Touched by an Angel,” a popular series from 1994-2003. No news is good in these situations!
Next, it was time to create a scenario appealing to my hubby and two besties for the purpose of attending carnival.
When I broached the marital conversation about attending the fair, Trey, as expected, was not properly motivated. “But it’s my birthday month,” I pleaded.
Then, I “sold” the idea to two girlfriends. Truth be told, all three were probably reluctant at best, though maybe one was bored and wanted to see what would happen? (When it comes to such matters, I rarely disappoint expectations.)
Of course, yours truly drove the hesitant passengers, and then ran in delight upon arrival as they chuckled. (That’s when I knew they were at least entertained.)
“First, we’re riding the Ferris wheel,” I announced, while nearly dancing to the ticket booth. (Thank goodness I had plenty of cash that day, as it’s not cheap for four people to ride anything.) My friends offered to pay, but I wouldn’t hear of it.
Up on top of the Ferris wheel, I saw lots of other rides we could “experience.” But these middle-aged people I love didn’t want to get on them, despite my pleas (and maybe even some attempted bribes?)
When I pointed to one “attraction” that appeared especially intimidating to my reluctant fairgoers, the following replies ensued:
“Absolutely not,” then “You’ve got to be kidding,” and one flat-out “(Heck) no!”
Then my husband and dear friend Cheryl ended up riding a kiddo-type attraction, in bumble bee cars that slowly went up, down and all around. They were smiling, waving and savoring the moment. Meanwhile, the other close friend, Karen and I watched, took videos, etc.
That’s when Karen pointed and said she would ride “that one over there.” I must confess of all the “advanced” rides, that one appeared the most unpleasant due to its bumpy speed and uneven track that reminded me of watching rodeo cowboys in action.
But at least I had a live player, so game on. As Trey and Cheryl disembarked from the bumble bees, I boasted of what we were about to ride.
Let’s just say it was a regretful decision, and it felt like I had ridden a bull named Fu Manchu. When the ride stopped (about to go backwards,) the operator thought me to be in distress and asked if I wanted off. But I told Karen that perhaps going the opposite direction would “undo damage.”
Maybe it did, but after that I wanted to burn our final tickets on the smaller Ferris wheel, (not the biggest one we first rode.)
With all four of us onboard as the ride started, I noticed a sign stating the weight limit for each gondola was 660 pounds.
Always cautious, I asked everyone what they weighed. (While I did not disclose my own weight, and no one has ever paid me to do math, we were solidly an oversized load.)
Every pound of us safely landed, as we then fled the carnival scene for probably the best pizza I’ve ever had in Midland, at a fairly new place called Fuoco Italian Cuisine.
Grateful we ate after and not before that ride, but it was a joyful evening. We lived well that day and night.
But next time, I’ll avoid any attraction that provokes images of bucking horses or bull riding.
Shanna (Sissom) Iverson is former long-time city editor of the Midland Reporter-Telegram and former managing editor for Hearst Newspapers. She is married to Siegfried J. “Trey” Iverson III. A nearly 25-year Midland resident, now retired, she enjoys contributing to the Midland Times.