Never Trust a Carnie
It’s a unique feeling to have sat or stood in the same spot for the entire cycle of the sun. Your mood changes with each new angle at which you face it. A head on, face first approach throughout the midday peak rays will leave you red-faced, bothered and extremely keen for some refreshing beers (although one must remember that this type of sun, the twelve-to-thirteen-hour-carnie-life type of sun, will turn most people in a bit of a light weight, which is one of the reasons why people subscribing to the carnie lifestyle are more often than not more than able to withstand a great amount of alcoholic intake). Too much shade in the cooler, morning hours can leave you cold, uncomfortable and desperate to head home, which is definitely not the mood you want to be in when you've got a twelve hour shift ahead of you.
To be able to withstand these horrendous work hours with absolute minimum break-time and little to no protection from the elements, one has to be savvy about how he manages his time and must ensure that they do not become completely over it and wanting to leave because this can only lead to insanity. If you can tell yourself that whatever meaningless, monotonous, boring and/or miserable task you've been allocated is actually something fun and worthwhile (or seemingly so, at least) then you will surely survive the day, and probably the next as well.
It is not uncommon to be operating the same ride for twelve hours a day for up to fourteen days straight. That's why carnies are, and have to be, people of a certain ilk, a certain generic breed that possess the ability to keep their minds (which may be a slight overstatement for some carnies) preoccupied on these somewhat strenuous long-hauls.
Come sunset at the carnival, as the sunlight dims along with its incessant strength and heat, we come out to play, forgetting any of the unwritten rules and laws that we may have lived by, or at least followed, for the previous twelve hours. The fairground lights turn highlighting each and every color of the spectrum with each and every color of the spectrum. The music seems to become louder and there is a certain smell in the air. The booze and the bud comes out of their secret stash places and everybody shares a free ride on each other’s attractions. It is a completely positive and influential experience that outsiders are never privy witness or behold.
These people, who are viewed as social scum and outcasts, are fully at home, in their element, which just so happens to be the carnival, or the fun-fair, or the fete, or the show, where everybody comes to be happy and have a great time. People respect us here, and we feel more like real, normal people. But we're never normal, none of us. We might be friendly to your face or your children, but to us, that child is merely our way of making a living. They are our golden geese, and therefore our means of success – if there is such a thing in the carnie business.
I've gotten to know and respect many carnies over the years. They are my people and I can tell you now that they'll forever have my back. It's like a family, except anyone who becomes a carnie usually doesn't have much a relationship with their real family.
A carnie will rip your tongue out of your throat and sell it back to you before you could even say, “What the fuck are you doing, you fucking carnie?!”
You can never trust a person that will befriend you for the five minutes you are attempting to play their game, the whole time cheating you out of all your change and pretending to care.
You can never trust a person who can smoke a spliff within breathing distance of you, your husband and your kids without anybody even noticing.
You can never trust a person who will operate a ferris wheel with less than half the required nuts and/or bolts fixed on the machine.
You can never trust a carnie. They are sneaky by nature and by creed.
Ripping people off is their religion.
Never trust a carnie... trust me.
20TH AUGUST 2011