I can hear the crowd cheering inside the Silver Spurs Arena. The rodeo has already started. I have never been to a rodeo in person, and I was looking forward to this. I debate whether or not to buy a ticket and see what is left.
"Excuse me, ma'am?" I say to a lady on the other side of the glass window at the ticket booth.
"Yes, sir?"
"Do you know if they've had the bull riding, yet?"
"Yeah, that's one of the first things they did. It's over, now."
That decides me. The bulls were the main thing I wanted to see.
"Okay. Thank you."
"I'm sorry," she says.
I smile at her and walk away from the arena. About fifty yards to the south is the entrance to the Osceola County Fair. Florida seems to hold their county fairs in the winter, which is definitely a change from where I grew up in North Carolina. I have always associated the fair with early autumn or even Halloween.
Night has fallen here in Kissimmee, and I stand in line for my ticket with talkative teenagers and guys wearing cowboy hats with girls hugging their arms.
"How many?" the man in the booth asks me when it is my turn at the window.
"Just me," I say.
"Just you?" he echoes.
"Yep."
"That'll be five dollars."
Once inside the grounds, I walk around for a bit, to take a look at all the attractions.
The predominant feature is the Ferris wheel. I have never ridden on one of these, either, and I think back to a story that my dad told me from his childhood.
He was at a fair, probably the Pender County Fair in North Carolina in the late 1950s or the early 1960s. He rode a Ferris wheel for the first time, along with his brother and a friend. Dad said that he was amazed by all that he could see, as he had never been so high in the air before. He had a royal time, too, as the Ferris wheel operator apparently forgot they were on board. They rode for about half an hour.
I think I want to go up in the Ferris wheel. In the darkness, I know that I will only be able to see lights down below, but I am still curious.
There is quite a long line of people, and I am hungry. So I buy a hot dog and a bottle of water to eat and drink while I wait.
After about ten minutes, I am close enough to the base of the wheel to see a sign that gives me pause. It reads in all caps: "NO SINGLE RIDERS." I have waited this long, though, and I do not know when the opportunity to ride a Ferris wheel might present itself again. So I stay in line.
Four men stand at the base, loading the passengers into the gondolas. As I watch them, I see that they are carefully picking and choosing who goes into each one. The gondolas swing back and forth on the rim of the wheel, and I suppose balancing each of the gondolas is an important thing.
Finally, it is my turn to get into one.
"Who else you got with you?"
"It's just me," I say.
"Aaah," the man exhales, scratching his forehead. "I can't put you in one by yourself."
"It screws up the balance?" I ask.
"You got it." He thinks for a moment. "Here, you can get in this one."
I sit for a minute by myself while people climb into a couple of other gondolas. Then one of the men directs a family of three to get into the gondola with me.
The family stands frozen for a moment. It is a young couple, younger than me, probably, with a small boy. The woman is pretty obese, and the guy is big, too, but in a brawny style. He is 6'2" or 6'3".
"Can we have a car by ourselves?" the woman asks.
"Sorry," the man answers. "I've got to put you in with him."
The husband tries to usher his wife in.
"I don't want to ride with him!" she says loudly.
This obviously embarrasses the husband, who strikes me as a good ole' country boy. When she sees his embarrassment, I suppose it occurs to her as well how she must sound, so the entire family climbs in with me.
I look at them and shrug sheepishly. "Sorry."
They say nothing, the husband shyly looking down at the floor of the gondola.
The Ferris wheel starts up. The kid has his head on his mom's shoulder, and he is staring at me. The mom has a small, sour frown on her face and avoids eye contact with me, though she is staring at her husband and seems to be wanting some reaction.
I turn and look out over the countryside. Though I cannot see them in the night, I know that the fair grounds below are surrounded primarily by open fields. In the distance to the north, I see a lot of lights. I wonder if these are the lights of Orlando. To the northwest horizon is another set of lights, some of which are neon red and blue. I wonder if this is part of Disney World- if I can really see that far. It would be nice to know. Instead, the lights remain a mystery.
The ride is over soon. The family and I climb out, quickly replaced by a young couple.
I do not hang around at the fair much longer after my ride on the Ferris wheel. Next time the chance comes up, perhaps it will be in the day- or at least I will know what I am looking at from high in the air. Maybe next time, too, a cute girl will be with me and I will not have to stress out a family of three... Maybe, but I have learned not to hold my breath, and to instead go ahead and take the chances when they arise.
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