In which we return to the Center of Maine, not without a pang

[rolanni]

In between naps and reading, we walked a lot this weekend -- up the beach, down the beach, around the amusement park, across town... The Moving Wall was in town and we went down one evening to pay our respects.

The Wall drew a lot of people, for Old Orchard Beach values of "a lot". Family groups with little kids and grandparents; couples of all ages, holding hands; solitary guys who slipped silently through the line, put a beer or a cigar under a certain section of Wall and melt away; a lot of people in motorcycle leathers -- from Kentucky, Ohio, Pennsylvania; Iron Horsemen patches, and Nomads, among others.

kinzel  and I took a tour of the model condo at the Grand Victorian; three bedroom (or, in our case, one bedroom and two offices), big kitchen, nice-sized living room, three decks, one looking out over the ocean. Nice, deep windows that the cats would love. All I have to do is find that winning lottery ticket...

At Palace Playland Saturday evening, I bough a ticket and got myself in line at the carousel. Not much of a carousel -- fiberglass animals and gearing in need of greasing, for starters -- still, it was worth a buck and a couple minutes of my time.

The ride operator was a woman in her sixties, maybe -- which is to say, a couple years older than I am. She was talking to the little kids in line, asking them which animal they were going to ride, and why, and having a heckuva good time. When it came my turn for going through the gate, she stared at the ticket in my hand like she'd never seen such a thing before, and looked like she'd bit down on something sour.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I'd like to ride on the merry-go-round," I answered.

She sniffed. "That's allowed," she said, in a tone that implied that it wouldn't have been if she was in charge of the park.

I rode the cat, in case anybody cares. The little girl one up in line beat me to the hippocampus.

We left the ocean early this morning in order to make a previously scheduled doctor's appointment; stopped in Waterville so I could renew my membership to the gym; swung by the post office, and so to home, where the cats ignored us for an hour or two before deciding that we'd Learned Our Lessons...

Comments

[lagilman]

I always ride the carousel. I grew up with some of the grand old ones that had been restored, and they were not 'just kiddie rides' at all! Glorious beasts, yes.

I'm a traditionalist. I always ride a horse. Unless there's a tiger.

[mbarker.livejournal.com]

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I'd like to ride on the merry-go-round," I answered.

She sniffed. "That's allowed," she said, in a tone that implied that it wouldn't have been if she was in charge of the park.

I rode the cat, in case anybody cares. The little girl one up in line beat me to the hippocampus.

I hope you enjoyed your ride! It does seem that there are people in the world who believe that we should have signs saying "you must be shorter than this to have fun." Fortunately for those of us who have not fallen prey to that bitter pill, we are still allowed to smile, to laugh, even to do silly things :-) Without even having to duck under their signs.

And the hippocampus and the cat and the horse and even the fat old pig are perfectly happy to keep us company!

I recently watched one of the Peter Pan movies. And explained to my wife (who is Japanese and sometimes doesn't know such things) why we had to clap at a certain point in the movie. You gotta believe . . . and keep the fairies alive every day.

[threeringedmoon.livejournal.com]

I love to ride the carousel. There was a fine one in the fun house in Ocean City Maryland.

I was surprised, when I went to the Wall on the Mall a few years ago, about how choked up I became.

Carousels

[cvwillc.livejournal.com]

I LOVE to ride the carousel! (Probably because I'm too chicken to ride anything else) My all-time favorite was at the old Elitch Gardens in Denver CO. It was the original carousel, and had wonderful animals; huge horses.

[reedrover]

solitary guys who slipped silently through the line

I hope that they returned home to more company than memories.

[mbarker.livejournal.com]

"What are you doing here?" she asked.
Just thinking that you could get business cards made up indicating that you are a Certified Carousel Inspector. I suspect handing one of those to a busybody such as this might be amusing. Perhaps something such as:

Riding the Cat, a Field Guide to Carousels
Sharon Lee
Certified Carousel Inspector Extraordinaire

[rolanni.livejournal.com]

Certified Carousel Inspector

As it happens, I am a Member In Good Standing of the National Carousel Association. Didn't have my membership card on me, though, and it might not have carried weight, anyhow, since the Association dedicates its energies to the restoration and appreciation of wooden carousels.

[mbarker.livejournal.com]

I think I might pay good money to see that confrontation. Miss Prissy sniffing, "What are you doing here?" At which point our heroine simply gets her card out of her wallet and shows it to Miss Prissy, perhaps with a slight smile. And Miss Prissy, not knowing quite what this Association may do, but clearly not expecting such a response, opens the gate and allows our heroine into the charmed circle where fiberglass cats and hippocampi romp gayly.

It would be amusing, at least, to see how Miss Prissy would react.