This has never stopped me from enjoying rides–roller coasters, spinning anything, metal toys set up in a day that look like they could certainly kill you before moving onto the next town. I can't get enough. I hate to blame it on my body, which seems to be aging faster than the rest of me, but I'm not sure what else to say.
We had a date with a friend for a ride on the tallest ride at the month-long fair that has come to town last night. We met in front of the Air Maxx, a giant needle that flips its eight captives around for a full four or five minutes. I wasn't afraid of dying, not even afraid of the heights I'd fallen from. I hadn't had many bad experiences on rides, and I wasn't going to let myself consider what could happen. I had a moment of apprehension when I had to thrust myself into the saddle-style seat (HOW do you get over that little piece for between your legs without bashing your head on the other part?), and Joe caught it with the camera.
But it was fine. It was actually really great. Amazing views of the city, rushes of wind as we fell toward the Ferris wheel, my scarf keeping me just warm enough, everyone around us screaming. Then the ride ended. Something wasn't right.
I hadn't eaten any fair food; I hadn't even eaten anything out of our normal diet. I have never been sick from a ride before, but a few minutes after walking away from Air Maxx, I thought I was dying, thought my insides were boiling.
"You alright? You're white," a friend said. I was glad to hear it. I thought all the pain was just in my head–scaring myself out of riding anything else. I was even more glad that it was already time for the fair to close. We could make an escape without me awkwardly throwing up in a trash can around all of my friends.
It was a long night: lots of pain; little sleep; more time than I'd care to admit sitting on the bathroom floor feeling the cool, damp tile. The cold calms me when I'm sick. I expected to feel better by morning. Instead, my body felt as damp & cool as the tile. I couldn't stand without wanting to cry or collapse in the fetal position. I canceled classes. I curled up. I slept for most of the day. I stood for a total of four hours.
I was completely confused. It's impossible that the symptoms came from the ride, that nausea from spinning could last for a full 24 hours. I started re-evaluating what we'd eaten, but Joe had no symptoms of food poisoning. The whole thing remains a mystery.
The bruises on my shoulders are less of a mystery, but rather disturbing. As Joe said, "They look like 'Black Swan'." (example) Thanks. The safety measures for Air Maxx managed to create clusters of tiny blood blisters on both shoulders, which I hope don't take too long to heal.
Long story short, I've spent the day in bed, eating crackers & sleeping as much as possible. I plan to go back to the fair & watch other people ride rides, but from now on, I'll stick to eating the fried goods. I was feeling better by my afternoon classes, but I still came home & crashed. Hopefully, I'll be up & at 'em tomorrow... but then again, hopefully not. Joe has promised to buy me lots of orange juice, Schweppes & snacks for his poor little wife if she can milk her horrible stomach pain for another morning. Tempting.
For more pictures from our time at the carnival, click here.
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