It has recently occurred to me that I am getting a little too old for the traditional town fair. I had the pleasure of visiting our local annual fair this past weekend, and although my initial joys were positive and high-spirited, I quickly came to the unfortunate realization that my carefree days of extreme amusement park enjoyment are a thing of the past. There are certain things that people normally outgrow: their first teddy bear (usually...), their security blanket, shopping for clothes with their parents, pooping in a diaper (again, usually...), etc. And another of these eventualities is visiting the fair. When I was a young boy, the experience was one of absolute ecstacy. Waiting in line for a ride was almost too much for me to handle; I had no patience to my name and the excitement was a killer. Trying to pop a balloon with a dart or fill a balloon in a clown's mouth with a powerful squirt gun with the hope of winning a stuffed trinket was another highlight of the day; granted, I bore zero signs of coordination and so it was more likely that my balloon-destined dart probably was thrown backwards into a middle-aged woman's Sno-Cone, but the thrill of the attempt and the desire for victory were all I needed. And let's not forget the inexplicably consistent arrival of a fry wagon. French fries being the Holy Grail of hungry children, I was naturally enticed to obtain these sticks of gloriously-fried potato product. The fair was a place where I could let my inhibitions run wild. My recent excursion to the fair was a different affair. I was often the oldest person on the various rides in the midway; now I wouldn't consider myself to be ancient or "over the hill" just yet, but compared to all the younger kids and even the teenagers that were riding as well, I am a decrepit fool. At my age, I feel as though one of my limbs should have snapped off and flown straight into a bucket of zesty nacho cheese. And while I could have easily gone on my favourite rides over and over again without tiring of them, such was not the case this time around. The first time on each ride instigated a flood of childhood memories; the second time, however, brought forth sensations of weariness, as though what was once amazingly intriguing was now merely going through the motions of trying to be a kid again. But my childhood is admittedly gone, and I can't get the same thrills out of midway rides as I used to. The only thing that amuses me is the fact that the gravitational effects that I once thought were cool are still cool today; hovering ever so slightly above your seat in the midst of a ride is neat and that will not change anytime soon. I used to ask for money from my parents for all sorts of purposes at the fair. Riding the ferris wheel, buying a tasty lunch, playing that stupid game with all the floating plastic ducks and you have to pick one up and look underneath for a winning symbol -- no aspect of the fair could remain untouched by my little hands. But this particular visit had a different air about it. Upon immediate inspection of the various fares, it dawned on me that going to the fair is pretty damn expensive! Four dollars for a silly little bag of cotton candy? Yeah, I think I could spend my money on something a little more valuable, like a barf bag for after departing from the tower ride that drops you at Mach-26 speed. I could easily fill up that bag with regurgitated candy floss. Yup. A Greek salad costs $5.50? That's just as horrible. So instead of wanting everything at the fair, I now spend my time bitching about the mind-numbing costs of things. I didn't even mention how much a single midway ticket costs... The ride operators of the midway used to spook me a bit when I was a kid. Here I am now, a fully-grown adult, and they still spook me. There's something about their swarthy demeanors that irks me somewhat; they just don't seem as child-friendly as a worker of the fair ought to be. Not to be particularly cruel to these hard-working individuals (although they did not have the rides functioning until an hour after the fair actually opened), but some of them reminded me of an inmate procession line at a maximum security prison! A few of them even were sporting wayward attitudes that, in any other job, would cause them to be fired. I realize that they may have had a bit of a tough life and have had to resort to the amusement ride industry, but I also do not believe that an industry based on fun for kids should be represented by grumpy fellows. As for the gaming booth retainers, they are a different breed altogether, one which annoys me to no end. They are always trying to get your attention and force you to spend your money there and "win one for the little lady". Besides the fact that my girlfriend thankfully does not want such lavish splendor draped upon her, I just plain stink at their already rigged games. Toss a ball into a barrel and win a prize? That would be just fine if they hadn't lined the bottom of each barrel with rubber, causing every ball to bounce out! Rigged! And isn't this the new millennium? Maybe the little lady could win me a genuine Made-In-Taiwan stuffed croctopus. I won't be returning to the fair in the foreseeable future. In fact, unless I have children of my own someday, I may never return to a fair like that, at least not without a grimace upon my face at all the ripoffs that shall surround me. The flashy lights and unusual sounds entice me no more, and only the possibility of inexpensive cotton candy could lure me back under my own influence. That won't be happening, though, so I'm pretty much going to snub the fair until they get a few things straight. What's at the top of the list? Creating a haunted house ride that is even remotely scary. The one I was in was beyond pitiful. Seeing zombies rattling around in cages is NOT my idea of horror. Maybe posting signs indicating what the prices will be like in 20 years? Bone-chilling.