The Tilt-a-Whirl

The Tilt-a-Whirl

The end of the day had finally come. I was parking my pick-up at the fairground parking lot. I loosened my tie, my first step in winding down from another Friday afternoon's work in the pressure cooker at the hospital. I took a deep breath, blew it out, and willfully brightened in contemplation of the Fairbanks fair.
Exploiting the Alaskan summer days, the fair bustled for all the daylight hours with the feel of a never-ending party. There’s plenty of time. Relax.
This fair was for participants, not observers. My neighbors...husbands, wives, children...all had something to display; from their garden, from their kitchen, from their shop, or from Four H Club: artwork, scout projects, pets, and science projects. I was wishing that I had entered the ladder that I had made for the loft in our house. I loved this about Fairbanks: it made you want to get off your butt and join in.
I had the paper scrap. "Your wife will meet you at the rides near the entrance by the Texaco station," it said. I was starting to relax a little as I headed for the midway where the dancing lights of the rides struggled to flash in the midnight sun. I strolled leisurely past the Ferris wheel, bumper cars, merry-go-round, the hammer, and a milk toast roller coaster ride.
I saw my boys. Their backs almost to me, they were looking up in wonder at the operator of the tilt a whirl, talking to him, I thought. He was a tall tough looking guy with thoroughly tattooed arms, a stringy mustache and a dirty ponytail. Low slung levis just barely clung to his hips and a black leather vest partially covered the almost black tanned skin of his torso. Pinky was behind them. She had a red ticket in her hand. When she looked up, her face was glowing with affectionate recognition. She leaned down to the boys, and pointed toward me. When her head came back up, she looked relieved; relieved, I guessed, because I had gotten free of the hospital and hadn't disappointed the boys.
Their faces just lit up. In unison they hollered, "Dad!" Their hair blew back in the wind as they ran, showing their excited smiles as they covered the 40 yards between us. It was the warmest reception I had received from my boys, probably ever, and the moment still remains a tender memory. As they reached me, one boy went to each arm and I hugged them both. They each grabbed a hand and pulled me toward Pinky. She was smiling, almost laughing. No troubles for me, I was on top of the world.
"Take a ride with the boys. I got you a ticket," she said.
The Tilt-a-Whirl is an undulating surface mounted on a large disc which is at a 30 degree angle. On each undulating segment there is a small car, like a round restaurant booth, which is free to careen on its own circular track as the larger disc rotates on its inclined plane. A benign looking ride, but if that's what they wanted, "Sure, let's take a ride." I thought. I gave the man my ticket.
"The boys are riding free," Pinky said.
The boys selected a car and took care to get me between them. I was flattered that they both wanted to be next to me. The operator pulled the shoulder high lever back to the first notch, his weight suspended from its handle, and the disc began to slowly rotate. It was pretty much what I had expected. Our little booth would rotate part of a circle as we were on the downhill side of the disc and came to a standstill on the uphill side. Two revolutions and he pulled the lever to the second notch. We could feel the effects of the centrifugal force now and it began to press us back into the seat. The boys were looking at each other and beginning to grin. This time around our booth made a full revolution on its little track, and that added a new dimension. It was my first inkling that there were some real possibilities for excitement. Another revolution and he pulled the lever to the third notch. Our booth began doing several revolutions each time the disc went around. As the nausea hit, I noticed that our little booth was the most active on the disc. We passed Pinky. It looked to me like she was laughing--uncontrollable side splitting type laughter. Big trouble. It was not fun. I was going to be sick if I didn't get off. I yelled, but everyone else was yelling too. I tried to get up and couldn't move because of the centrifugal force. The operator grasped the handle. Oh, relief. He had seen me. I could hardly wait for the world to stop spinning as he applied the brakes. Instead he swung down with his full weight, pulling the lever to the fourth notch. The little booth careened wildly, suddenly stopped, reversed directions and spun. I closed my eyes, spread my feet, and pushed back into the seat no longer conscious of what was going on around me. I was preparing for embarrassment, trying to hang on to the end. I suddenly had a mouthful of gastric juice. Mercifully I was able to swallow. The ride was beginning to slow. Our booth's violent accelerations moderated. When we came to a stop, I had difficulty standing. Pinky came out to help me as I walked with a broad-based gait to the exit. The world around me was still slowly rotating, and I was still in danger of tossing my cookies. Standing still with my eyes closed and my hands on slightly flexed knees like a football player in a huddle, I took several minutes to recover enough to notice my surroundings. The boys were ecstatic. They were jumping up and down, begging Pinky to go with them.
Pinky couldn't answer. She was just killing herself laughing.
"I watched your face the whole time," she said, pausing to laugh, then to breathe. "You tried to get up, didn't you?"
"I couldn't move."
"You turned absolutely green," she paused for more laughter.
"I still feel pretty green."
"I'm sorry, but it really is funny," she apologized. "I've been standing here long enough to become an expert. And I have to tell you that no one has whirled around on that thing like you guys did."
"I think that I can walk now," I said hopefully.
"Before you got here, the boys chose that ride. They rode by themselves the first time. The platform went around but the little car seemed to be stuck and didn't turn at all. They were really disappointed," she said finally controlling her laughter.
Still a little unsteady, I was walking and burping to try alleviating the sensation of pressure in my stomach.
"The operator was really nice to the boys. He told them that they could try again for free and that what they needed was some weight in the car," she said.
"They were so disappointed. I was going ride with them. I even bought a ticket. But then...I saw you," she said.
"You gave me your ticket. Didn't you?" I asked.
"I leaned down and said, 'Look who's here guys.' They saw you, and their little faces just lit up," she said. She was again laughing uncontrollably.
The heart felt greeting was the timely end of a search by my grade school hedonists for a larger guileless companion.
"Yeah," I said. "I thought it was filial devotion." I said.
"I know," she said. "I could see it on your face when they ran to get you. And they do love you that much. So don't feel sorry for yourself." She paused.
"Was I ever relieved to see you," she said opening her eyes wide. "It was everything that I could do to hand you that ticket with a straight face." She laughed and clapped her hands together.