I was 13 years old and prone to motion sickness. Undaunted, I rode the Tilt-A-Whirl. Soon after, I leaned over a small fence behind the Round-Up and threw up. As I did, my attention was drawn to a treasure trove of coins, dollar bills, jewelry, sunglasses, etc., in the grass -- personal effects lost by midway thrill riders. I reached for a dollar bill, then quickly snapped my hand back when the pointed cowboy boot of a Royal American Show worker stepped on the bill.
The worker told me I couldn't pocket the stuff back here, but I could spend the dollar at his booth. I followed him to a booth where you break plates with baseballs. Wiping clammy sweat from my forehead, I took a baseball and threw it. The ball miraculously smashed a plate, sending glorious ivory shards against the battered aluminum wall. I expected to have two more tosses, but the carnie took away the remaining baseballs and retrieved a huge teddy bear from the ceiling. He handed it to me and told me to check out the bear's pocket when I left the midway. There I found a fresh piece of spearmint gum and a dollar bill.
Susan M. Gulden, Plymouth
Published in the Minneapolis Star Tribune, August 17, 2001
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