The Carnival

Last night , I had dinner at a restaurant in the next town. After we ate, we heard someone talking on a loudspeaker. We looked towards the back of the parking lot and located the sound. It was a carnival. The traveling kind. With a ferris wheel, roller coaster and the flying swings. There were all types of games of chance. Dart games, ball tossing games, shooting games. The one unmistakable thing was the way the area smelled. It had the scent of a carnival. The unmistakable smell of popcorn, corn dogs, funnel cakes and cotton candy, all rolled into one. Anyone that has ever been to a carnival knows what I am talking about. It is the scent of childhood happiness. The smell that lets your brain know that this is a place to have fun. As we walked around, we saw the cotton candy booth. My eyes lit up like a neon sign. For some reason, lately, I am in love with cotton candy. We stepped up to the booth and ordered 2 large spools. I knew what the price was, but when I asked the woman how much it was, she looked at me, smiled, and said less than what the sign said. I guess she felt that 4 adults craving cotton candy needed a discount. We thanked her and proceeded to attack the cotton candy. It was so fresh and airy and it was devoured in about 4 minutes. Nothing was left but the stickiness of our fingers.