I think I just got old.

The whole time I lived in New York, I wanted to go to a fair. I wanted to look at the quilts and the weird little dolls in crochet dresses. I wanted to eat a fried Snickers and a corn dog. The whole time I was in New York, though, I only went to a fair once, and while I did have a fried strawberry pop tart, it wasn't quite the same. So yesterday on the way back to Atlanta, I made my dream come true. I went to the South Carolina State Fair with my friend Kelly.

After a stroll through the arts and crafts and produce and petting zoo and Kelly's eating a foot long corn dog, Kelly and I decided the trip to the State Fair wouldn't be complete if we didn't go on any of the rides. We bought three tickets each and chose an orange and purple light-up spinning monstrosity. While we waited in line, it really didn't seem bad at all. No problem. We'd been on stuff like this before. Hundreds of times. Maybe even thousands. 

Once we boarded the orange and purple spinner, though, things seemed a little different. We sat there while everyone else was seated, I sort of wedged my zipped bag between myself and the bar that holds you into the ride. Then, the ride started. While it got faster, all I could think about was how the guy hadn't checked my bar. And then, I was worried I'd lose my glasses. And then the girl across from Kelly and me said something about being worried she would soil her pants. And when I was upside down, I was sure I would fall out of the ride at any moment. Kelly never even opened her eyes.

When the ride was over, I couldn't have been happier. This time it hadn't really been that kind of fun fear people go on those rides for. I actually was afraid for my life. Once we were safely off the ride, I knew I'd never go on a fair ride again. And Kelly said all she kept thinking the whole time is how people actually die on those rides. 

And then we realized...we must be old now.