Summer Short Stories Entry #2

The Ferris Wheel of Doom (and other disasters)

The fair is usually fun.

Note: usually.

In my experience, the fair’s a fun place to go on roller coasters, eat cotton candy, scare yourself sick with haunted mansion rides, and annoy the heck out of your family on the Ferris Wheel.

And that’s where it all started: The Ferris Wheel.

I’m riding the thing in a car with my family - including my older sister Emilie, and of course my parents - when the car rocks a little.

No one else noticed.

And maybe it’s just because this is my first time on a roller coaster, I don’t know, but it freaked me out. Like - we’re dangling what feels like five thousand feet up off the ground, supported by a spinny, slow, annoying, oversized car tire? How is this a good idea???

Something you should know about me is that I like scary rides. Love them. Crazy superfast loop-de-loop roller coasters, haunted mansion rides (as mentioned earlier), giant claws that swing you into the sky and leave your stomach somewhere underground…oh yeah. But for some reason I just can’t stand the Ferris Wheel. I mean, come on! There are no thrills. No excitement. You’re just trusting whatever depressed, bored teenager who’s operating a piece of deadly machinery with your life. Which, sure, is the case of any other ride - but at least those rides are fun! This is just plain boring.

Sorry if I offended you Ferris Wheel enthusiasts.

But just…nope.

So when the car rocks a tiny bit again, I shriek, completely interrupting Emilie and my mom’s conversation about movie stars.

“Arietta!” Dad looks at me, alarmed. “Is everything okay?”

“Uh…uh-huh. Yep. Fine.” World’s best liar over here. Ha-ha. “Um…can we get off?” Smoooooooooth, Arie. Smooth. “Please?”

“Honey,” Mom says slowly, “I’m sorry, but in case you haven’t noticed we’re at the top. We can’t get off until the ride stops and we’re back at the bottom.”

That, of course, causes another round of shrieking from me, because I’ve been trying very hard not to look down and when I do…

Yep. We’re definitely at the top. The rest of the fair looks tiny. The people are ants. The cotton candy is miniscule. Heck, the rides are nearly microscopic from up here!

Most normal people would find it beautiful. The crimson-streaked dusky sky with stars sprinkled among the fluffy white clouds, the light breeze, being up here, so high, with a perfect view of the fair glittering below us.

For me, it’s pretty hard not to fall out of the car in shock and, yep, terror, because WHYYYYYYYYY.

I had no idea I was scared of heights before now - but I am, and there should seriously be a Get out of jail free card for Ferris Wheels, even mid-ride!

We make it back to the bottom - barely, in my opinion, and then it’s my sister’s turn to pick a ride because the youngest always goes last, and the youngest is me.

I hate that rule.

Emilie insists on paragliders, so we buckle in after a ridiculously long line and the machine starts up, lifting us off the ground and whisking us around in circles like we’re flying. They have us paraglide in pairs, so it’s me and Emilie behind Mom and Dad and a bunch of randos who clearly have no common sense because this is boring too!

I start to feel myself slipping out of my harness halfway through the ride. AHHHHH! “Emilie!” I yell over the wind. “I’m falling off!”

“How do you fall off a paraglider?” She wonders, watching me struggle to get back inside the harness. 

“EMILIE!”

“Okay, okay. Jeez, Arie, what the heck? I’m sure you’re fine. Just…hold on tight for now.”

Her words register a minute too late, because then whatever dodo bird is operating this piece of deadly machinery makes the paragliders spin faster.

I think the universe hates me.

I’m screaming and the randos behind us probably think I’m some psycho scaredy-cat, but that’s fine by me because when has anyone ever fallen off a paraglider??? Name one person!

Exactly.

I’ve done the impossible.

I struggle to pull the too-loose harness around me in the whipping wind. It’s hard. But seriously, how did the operator guy miss the You are going to fall off a paraglider because your harness is too loose factor?! You know the guy that comes around, checking to make sure you’re securely buckled in at every ride? 

He failed me.

The ride slows down just in time for me to stumble off safely, right when I would’ve let go of the harness and plummeted the five feet to my death. Imagine that in an obituary: Died falling off a paraglider. That takes talent.

So that was Very.

Extremely.

Traumatizing.

I’m never going on a paraglider - or Ferris Wheel! - again!

“Okay, Arie, what do you want to do next?” Mom asks, completely oblivious. I swear, sometimes parents know everything - as in capital-E Everything - and other times they’re completely, painfully clueless.

“Uhh…” Emilie shoots me a Look. Probably because if our parents found out about my paraglider fiasco, they’d never let us ride again - and the paragliders are Emilie’s all-time faves. I decide to spare her - but I’m still never getting back on one of those things again! “Roller coaster,” I manage to mutter weakly.

So we go on a roller coaster.

Now, I don’t love the rickety up-and-down ones, but they’re still roller coasters, so I’ll take it. We sit in our seats, and buckle up extremely securely. I even asked the guy to double-check.

We head up the track, bumping up and up and up, and my stomach shriveled and died somewhere at the beginning because honestly, going up is worse than down, and then we’re zooming down the track and around the curves and swerving like some crazy driver and it’s terrifying but I love it.

Before I know it, the ride’s over, and Dad’s begging for bumper cars. I hate bumper cars. Hate. But it’s not like I have a choice, so…

It’s Emilie and I versus Mom and Dad and, of course, a ton of strangers, but who cares about that part? Emilie, who loves bumper cars, grabs the steering wheel and jerks the car around, slamming into everyone’s - but especially Dad’s. It’s kinda fun if you try to forget about being jostled. Dad and Emilie fight back and forth in the cars, with me and Mom just sitting there like the ultimate useless teammates. Dad wins (he’s had more life experience, after all), but not before Emilie takes her chance with a final, painful bump against our parents’ car. And that is when SOMEHOW I fell out of my bumper car and into a random guy’s.

WHAT THE HECK?!

I scramble around. Emilie hasn’t even noticed that I’m gone, she’s too busy getting her revenge on Dad to notice. Some big sister you are. The kid whose car I’m in just stares at me blankly. He’s got bright red hair and black sweatpants, which doesn’t seem ideal for a summer day, but what do I know?

“Hi…” I say. “Sorry about that. I’m so confused. Like, how do you fall out of a bumper car…?”

“Yeah…,” he says. “Um…I’m Aiden. If you want I guess we could team up, just until the ride ends…I don’t really like bumper cars.”

“Me neither.” I buckle myself in and grab the steering wheel. “I’m Arietta. Nice to meet you. Let’s do this thing!” 

As I steer me and Aiden’s car into a war against a bunch of strangers (and possibly my family, who still hasn’t noticed I’m not with Emilie anymore), I can’t help but think that maybe this disastrous night where All The Worst Things straight out of every tween’s nightmares happened to me…might not turn out so bad after all.

Then again, it’s bumper cars, so who am I kidding?