We arrived at the Springfield fairgrounds sometime in the middle of the night. The bunkhouse had arrived, but had not been hooked up to the generators yet. Quite a few of the joints and a few of the rides arrived around the same time we did, but there wasn't a whole lot any of us could do. Some of the guys went to work hooking the bunkhouse up to the generator, and the gals sat around and talked and bitched and drank and smoked. All I wanted was a bathroom, because I really had to pee. There weren't any portapotties set up, as they had yet to arrive, but there was what could only be described as an outhouse. Unfortunately, it was padlocked, so I went behind the building and did my thing (luckily, it was only to pee).

After I took care of that small chore (and thank goodness I thought to stuff my hoodie's pockets with napkins from some fast food place), I got back into the car and tried to sleep. Ever try to sleep in a '69 Chevy Camaro? No? Then don't...it's not meant for that purpose.

Sean came over to the car after a while and told me that the power to the bunkhouse was hooked up, and we could at least see enough to get ready for bed. We would look for a motel in the morning before work call.

Sometime after the sun came up, Sean and I got up and went to get breakfast at some gas station/general store about five miles down the road from the fairgrounds (after all, we're out in the middle of nowhere. All I knew at this point is that we were still in Maine).

Turns out that we didn't have time to look for a motel before work call, so we went back to the fairgrounds, and Sean went off to the Wheel to help set it up, and I went to the Dough to see if Val needed my help. She didn't that day, but definitely the next day.

Opening Day was on the 29th, so there was a bit of work to do before we could open. The fair ran thru Labor Day (September 2nd), so this would be the longest spot I would work at until Topsfield in October. Most of the spots were Friday/Saturday/Sunday affairs.

So I didn't have to help Val and Shell that day, so I decided to take a shower. There were two showers in the bunkhouse, and most everyone else was working, so they would be free.

I gathered my towel, soap, shampoo and other toiletries and slipped on Sean's shower shoes. Once I got in to the shower room, I realized it was very small, about half the size of my bathroom in my apartment in Lawrence, and not a lot of room to move around. I turned on the water, waited about a minute for it to get warm, hopped in and took the fastest shower of my life. I even managed to wash my hair.

Drying off and getting dressed proved to be a comedy of errors, but I eventually managed to do that as well. A shower in a motel room that night would be nirvana.

I got out of the shower room, and one of the girls asked if she could borrow my shampoo, and I handed it to her. Her name was Meghan, and I already knew she didn't have a good reputation. It was said she'd sleep with any guy who asked her. As I got to know her, I decided I was in no position to judge.

I let my hair air dry because I didn't have a hair dryer with me. I needed to touch up the color, but that would have to wait.

Jenny, the "sprite" girl I had met in Dover, liked the color of my hair and decided to dye her very short hair a different shade of red than what she already had. When she did it a couple of days later, it turned out very well and the new color suited her complexion (very fair and freckled). She asked me if Sean and I would take her somewhere to get the hair color, and I said we could do that.

Jenny didn't have a very good reputation either. I don't know whether it was deserved or not, because I wasn't in a place where I could pass judgement (something Sean had a hard time with, because he wanted to believe everything he heard about everyone). But, she was a nice girl and I liked her, and I think she looked upon me as a big sister (although I was old enough to be her mother, as she was only eighteen).

Sometime in the late afternoon, Sean was done working for the day, and was quite ready to find a motel. He was tired, pissed off about something that happened during the day, he wanted a beer and a shower.

Since payday wasn't until Wednesday, we didn't think we had enough money to get a room, be able to have meals, and do laundry and still have enough for necessities (i.e. beer for Sean and sodas for me.)

Springfield is where I met the incomparable Slim, who was one of the biggest assholes in the universe. He always had a joke (usually bad) at someone else's expense. In my presence, they were about Sean.

When we got up the next morning, we decided to eat at the cookshack, the trailer set up to feed the carnival folks. This was a money saving measure so that Sean and I would have enough money to get lunch and dinner that evening. The guy who ran the cookshack, Paul, was an older man in his late fifties or early sixties. He was rather gruff to everyone, but kind of softened up around pretty girls.

I heard more disgusting stories about his personal hygiene than one could shake a stick at.

His cooking skills left a lot to be desired, however. I can't count the number of times I heard of and saw people become ill after eating the cookshack food. I ordered an egg and bacon sandwich with cheese, and it wasn't too bad. The coffee, however, was way too strong! Not even sugar and milk could cover up the acidic taste. I was wishing for Dunkin's coffee big time.

Sean and I sat under the awning eating breakfast, talking to the few folks who were there. This heavyset man comes walking up and starts talking and joking (badly, I might add). Sean had met this man in Bangor, right after he joined up with the show, so this guy knew him as "Scooby". His name was "Slim" (which he wasn't), and he starts in on Sean about some night in a bar in Bangor that Sean told me later didn't happen exactly as Slim said it did. When Slim realized I was Sean's girlfriend, he starts this bullshit about I could "do better" and comments along those lines. He also hit on me when Sean wasn't within earshot. He gave me the heebie-jeebies.

Slim worked in one of the food booths, selling Italian sausage sandwiches. He had been doing carnivals and amusement shows for many years. He'd been married about six times. He talked shit about people he didn't like. I took that to mean that there was no love lost on Sean. Sean doesn't take too kindly to certain people and their BS.

I guess Slim realized I wasn't the usual kind of carnival worker, because he kept asking me why someone like me would join the carnival. "Is Scooby so wonderful that you'd follow him anywhere?" he'd ask me. I replied that this was a different experience for me, and yes, being with Sean was the inspiration for me being out there.

"You just seem so out of place here. You're too intelligent for this kind of job."

I didn't like the implications he presented (although I'm sure he meant it as a back handed compliment); that carnival workers were somehow not as smart as people who chose traditional types of employment. A lot of the people I'd met in the short time I was with the show maybe weren't Rhodes scholars (because God knows I'm not!), but they weren't stupid. If anything, they were more street smart than I ever hoped to be. Being with these people, and seeing how they live and work, was becoming an eye opening experience for me. It was hammered home to me, yet again, how much of a sheltered environment I was raised in, and, indeed, still lived in.

When Slim got up and waddled off to his booth, I was relieved. One of the gals who worked in one of the other Dough joints, Karen, told me not to take anything Slim said personally. "He can be a real jerk sometimes," she said.

"Sometimes???" I asked, and everyone laughed.

After the impromptu meeting with Slim, I went to the Dough to see what I could do to help. Val was telling me and this other girl, Molly, who was noticeably pregnant, that because we were so close to the Canadian border, that we may see some Canadian currency during this spot. Since Canada's money was worth roughly half of what our money was worth (i.e. a Canadian five-dollar bill was actually worth $2.50 in the States). We could accept Canadian currency, but if they buy five dollars worth of stuff, it would cost them ten-dollars Canadian. We didn't have too many folks from Canada using their currency though.

We unpacked the stuff from the trailer and began setting things up. I did a lot of the heavy carrying, lifting, and the like, because Molly really shouldn't have been doing any of that. Molly basically cleaned and stocked supplies. Shell and Val were arranging for deliveries of flour, salt, sugar, sodas, water. We also wouldn't be using our soft drink machine at this spot because Springfield was a "Coke fair", and we usually sold Pepsi products. All sodas would be in cans and stored in coolers provided by the supplier. Even the board we had our price list on was emblazoned with the Pepsi logo, and so we had to cover that up.

We worked most of the day and got everything pretty much ready for the opening day, which wasn't for a couple more days.

When we were through for the day, I walked around the midway (or what would become the midway) watching the other joints being set up. There was this one group of people I hadn't seen before setting up a joint where you try to get plastic fish into a big pot to win prizes. They were a kind of scuzzy bunch, two gals and a guy with almost no teeth. They were nice enough, and asked where I was working. I told them and one of the gals asked me how I came to work for the carnival. Before I could answer, Sean sees me, and walks up to their booth and says, "I see you've met my girl." The looks on their faces were priceless. To them, Sean and I must have looked like the most unlikely couple on the planet: the Cajun ride jock and the Italian-American Princess with soldering skills.

Sean had been working on the "century wheel", or original Ferris wheel, with a guy named Cliff who was raised in the carnival. He was the "wheel man", the guy who knows the most about the Ferris wheel, how it operates, how it's maintained, and who trains others to run it. He told me later that "Scooby will make a great wheel man if he sticks with it. He has the safety of the riders foremost in his mind." And, Sean was good at what he did on the wheel. It was run with a handbrake and clutch, which is pretty hard to master, and one would have to be pretty strong to do that all day long. I thought that Sean would run the wheel with Cliff for the rest of the season, but later, he was moved to other rides, and Sean didn't really care for that kind of manipulation by the midway manager.

After Sean got through for the day, we went into town to find some things we may need during our stay. One of those things was a laundromat. We also located the local Wal-Mart and McDonald's. We had a full load in the car, too: the couple we brought from Dover, Steve and Autumn, Jenny (from the Duck Pond), and another girl, Kristine, who ran several of the kiddie rides. It was a tight fit in the back seat that was only supposed to hold two people.

And don't ask me how he did it, but when Sean went into the Mickey-D's for burgers, he came out with a lot more than he ordered! "Freebies!" he said as he passed out french fries and sodas.

"How did you manage to get all this stuff?" Kristine asked, and with good reason. Most of us were stony broke.

"Charm," Sean said. "My Cajun charm."

After Mickey-D's, we headed to Wal-Mart, where we picked up varied and sundry toiletries, laundry soap, Jenny got her hair dye, chips, sodas, beer, and a couple of styrofoam coolers. After a while, as more of the carnival people found out about Wal-Mart, I was thinking, there must be no one left at the lot, because they're all here!

Later, we went to the laundromat, where several people were already doing their laundry. Sean and I hadn't thought to bring our laundry, but made a mental note to come back later that day or early the next.

We returned to the lot shortly before dark, and the parties were already in full swing. There was this older couple who collected the aluminum cans around the lot and took them to the local recycling center for cash. They weren't employed by the carnival, and lived in the immediate area. The man was ancient-looking, but probably not all that old; his wife was younger, and both were unkempt. They were nice folks, though. They apparently thought the same of most of us.

The pungent odor of marijuana was thick in the air; you could get high just by taking a deep breath. The beer was plentiful and the soda was not. Soon, folks were pairing off (who weren't previously paired).

Sean and I went back into town. The nearest town down Route 6 was Lee, and it was there that we found two things: Chinese food and a motel. They were next door to each other. Unfortunately, there was no vacancy at the motel, and the Chinese restaurant was empty save for a couple of men at a table near a stage. Turned out that they were ride jocks with our show, and they were nearly finished.

We looked at menus and decided on what we were going to have. While we were waiting for our order, the maitre d' (I guess that's what he was) got up on stage and turned on a karaoke machine, and soon the lyrics appeared on the screen. Sean teased me about my patronage at karaoke bars, and told the host that I would sing. I didn't want to sing to an empty house, so the host sang a Neil Diamond song (Sweet Caroline?), complete with Chinese accent. He wasn't half bad.

The food was great! I had my usual Chinese meal of Lo Mein, and Sean had Beef and Broccoli.

We talked about what we did all day to help set up the show, about the trip into town earlier to Wal-Mart, and about us being together longer than the weekend I had originally planned on. I really had to get to an ATM in the next couple of days and send in my rent. My utilities were current for the time being.

We drove around Lee for a little while after dinner, and it seemed the whole town closed for the night right at eight. There was nothing open, so we headed back to the lot.

Once back at the bunkhouse, it really was too early to go to bed, so we hung out with the other folks outside. Everyone was smoking and/or drinking and getting into stupid little fights because they were all in various stages of drunkenness. Sean was drinking, too, but he was usually the one trying to break up the fights.

"Don't you drink, Sara?" a ride jock named Eric asked me.

"Nope," I said. "Never felt I had the need to. If I'm going to do something stupid, I want to remember it." Everyone thought that was funny.

"How did you meet Scooby?" This from a girl named Haley.

"We met in Bangor, and we clicked."

"Yep," Sean said. "I met my baby at the Zipper, and the rest is history." Sean was getting a little tipsy. He was drinking one beer after another, and I had lost count at four.

Someone offered me a joint, and I passed it along to someone else. I don't do pot. Period. Sean, to my relief, passed on it as well.

I soon got sleepy (maybe it was all the smoke in the air from cigarettes and pot), and Sean let me into our room. He said he'd be in in about an hour, and I said okay.

We had the room to ourselves for a couple of weeks. Sean's usual roommate, Jimmy, was working with another unit of our show somewhere else in Maine.

I lay on the bunk, but I couldn't fall asleep. The walls were indeed paper-thin, as I could hear everything going on in the rooms on either side of me. Conversations were very clear, as if I were in the same room. It was for this reason that Sean and I spoke in low voice or whispers.

I fell asleep eventually. Soon I was jarred awake by what I thought was an earthquake. Sean was snoring away next to me, but he was awake now as well. He turned to me and put his finger to his lips to signal me to be quiet.

"Oh, geez! I don't fuckin' believe this!" Sean whispered. What was rocking the bunkhouse was a couple in the room next door to our right having sex. Soon we heard a woman moaning rather loudly.

"This is why we're not doin' anything, Sara," Sean said quietly. "No one needs to hear us foolin' around."

Sean took me into his arms and I cuddled against his large frame. "I love you, Saralinda. We'll find a motel sometime before the show opens, because I wanna love you, baby."

"I wanna love you, too, Sean." He then kissed me.

"Let's try and get some sleep, honey. It's goin' to be a long day tomorrow."

I barely heard him. I was already falling asleep.

Val wanted me at the Dough at eleven, so when Sean went to the wheel at ten, I went to see if Val, Shell and Molly were already there. Sure enough, they were. They were all staying in Val and her husband, Danny's, trailer.

I got to work. The cooler from the Coke distributor had arrived, and I was tasked to clean it out, then stock it with the cans of soda that were waiting on pallets nearby.

That was a lot of soda, and about an hour later, it was fully stocked. I had several six-packs left over, so Val took them and put them in the cooler in the joint until the Coke distributor could return for them. We weren't going to be opening until Thursday, and we had a standing order for a certain number of cases of soda, cups and lids each day.

We also took delivery of frying oil, flour, bottled water, butter, and other supplies. By three in the afternoon, we were done for the day. I helped Val close up the joint and told me to come back at the same time tomorrow.

Meanwhile, at the wheel, Sean, Cliff and Kristine were painting the wheel's support arms. The paint was silver and it was being used to touch up the wheel's appearance.

Sean was standing about one hundred feet off the ground, painting the cross arms on the wheel itself. Cliff was painting the trailer a blue color. Kristine, on loan from the carousel, was painting the other side of the wheel in about the same position as Sean.

Sean waved to me, then went back to painting. I thought I'd go walk around the midway, then head on over to the cookshack for something to eat. I didn't really want to eat there, but I didn't know when Sean would be done painting, and I was hungry.

Turned out that the cookshack was closed, so went that idea. I headed back to the wheel, to see that Sean and Kristine had come down from their perches. Kristine was covered in silver paint. She had spilled it on herself just seconds before I walked up, and Cliff was fussing at her. Sean just looked at me as if to say, this girl is so hopeless.

Cliff decided that they were done for the time being, but told Sean that if they needed to come back sometime during the evening, then he better make plans to be there. "You know Brian," Cliff said. "He'll find something about this damned wheel to bitch about." Brian was the midway manager. He liked to think his word was law, but everyone else thought he was a major jerk-off. I know I didn't like him when I met him.

Off we went to the bunkhouse to gather our clothes to make a run to the laundromat. Since I didn't have many clothes with me, I needed to do laundry every couple of days. I told Sean that if we had a chance, I wanted to go to Wal-Mart and get a couple pairs of jeans, some shirts, socks and underwear. Sean thought that was a great idea, because he could think of a few things he needed as well.

Word got around that Sean and I were planning a trip into town, and people came out of the woodwork to ask for rides. The backseat of my car could hold two people comfortably (or twice that many uncomfortably), so the first three people (and that was pushing it) got seats. Joining us on our jaunt into town were Steve and Autumn, and a rather soft-spoken young guy calling himself Doc. The trunk now held laundry bags for four people (Doc wanted to go to Wal-Mart) and various other junk.

After driving to the General Store on Route 6 for gas, we were one our way to the laundromat. Once there, I was pleased to see that the place was empty, so we had our pick of machines. Sean and I combined our loads to save money (we didn't sort for the same reason), then sat around and read the local paper or played video games (I got tired of video games back in the 80's). Steve, Autumn, and Doc went outside to smoke, since I didn't allow smoking in the car.

Afterwards, once everyone's clothes were (reasonably) dry and packed up and away in the trunk, we headed to Wally World. We split up and did our own things, and were to meet at the front entrance in an hour. Sean helped me pick out some clothes, but left the "unmentionables" entirely up to me ("You know what I like," Sean said with a wink). Needless to say, Wal-Mart doesn't sell sexy underwear (okay, maybe a thong or two, here and there, but not in Lee, Maine they don't). I had to wing it.

Sean picked up a couple shirts and some jeans, socks and some sneakers. He liked to dress in the hip-hop style, and there wasn't much of that at Wal-Mart either. What we really needed was a mall, but there probably wasn't one here in Out-In-the-Middle-of-Nowheresville, Maine.

The five of us met at the entrance and went to the car. We all had bags with purchases in them, and now they went into the overstuffed trunk.

"What do y'all want to do now?" Sean asked. "There really isn't a whole lot to do here."

Everyone was at a loss for words. Sean was right, there was nothing to do here. Doc said something about getting beer, and Steve wanted other meal choices other than the cookshack fare. I said that near the Mickey-D's we went to the day before was a supermarket, maybe we could go there.

Sean started up the car and we drove maybe a quarter-mile to the market. There were other carnies there as well, and I'm sure that the store employees thought they were being invaded. Doc's idea to buy beer hit a snag when he couldn't produce I.D. to prove he was old enough to do so. Sean offered to buy it for him, but they wouldn't accept Sean's Wisconsin drivers license (turns out it had expired on his last birthday. That wouldn't stop him from driving, he told me later).

Sean bought some lunchmeat, bread, mustard, and cheese for the cooler that we had back in our room. I added a bag of ice and a 24-pack of Pepsi. Doc had to forego his beer for the moment. He was bound to fine someone who had some back at the lot. We then piled back into the car and headed back .

At the lot, it was again party time. Sean didn't want to hang around, so we dropped Autumn, Steve, Doc, and all their stuff off, put our stuff in the cooler, then we headed back into town.

"Want to see if we can find a motel, Sara?" Sean asked.

"Sure, anything to get away from party central."

"All the drinking and pot smoking gets to you, doesn't it?"

"...and the rumors, and overhearing people having sex...yeah, it does get to me."

"If you're going to be part of the show," Sean said, "you'll have to try and get used to it. We work all day and have our own ways to unwind."

I said I understood all that, but this was still quite a departure from what I was used to. I thought my friends in Mass. and New Hampshire were a rowdy bunch, but nothing like this.

"Honey, I know this is all new to you. I'll be here if you need me. No one will give you a hard time if you don't choose drink or do pot. I've been hearing great things about you out on the midway, Sara."

"Oh...?" I said, incredulous.

"Yeah," Sean said; "Everyone thinks you're a nice person, and that is a rare thing on a carnival lot. Everyone is usually only looking out for themselves. You're nice to everyone, even when they treat you badly."

"Maybe I'm just naive, Sean," I said; "being nice, that's just my way. Turn the other cheek and all that."

"I know. You and I were raised with the same values. While you live those values, sometimes I don't."

I told Sean that I knew he was a nice guy, and had a good heart. But, I also understood the circumstances under which he was raised (parents died when he was young, shuffled from foster home to foster home), and he had to survive he best he could. Sometimes, he could be mean to people. I've heard him get into altercations with other carnies over essentially trivial things. He'd had a shouting match with the midway manager just that afternoon. However, he was never, ever mean to me.

Meanwhile, we weren't having much luck finding a motel with a vacancy. A lot of people were in town for the fair, which would start Thursday.

We considered going back to the lot and sleeping in the bunkhouse. We were striking out everywhere we went. Even the motel by the Chinese place was full.

As we approached the turn that would take us off Route 6 and back to the fairgrounds, Sean had an idea. He'd bypass the turn and go in the other direction, just to see whether there was a motel and/or a place to eat.

After driving about ten miles, we finally found a motel. It had a vacancy, so we pulled in and Sean went inside to inquire about a room. He soon returned to the car, and he was pissed.

"Mothafuckas! I swear the guy took one look at me and said they were booked solid until the day after Labor Day."

"Should we keep looking?"

"Fuck no, let's go back to the lot!"

I didn't say it, but maybe I should be the one to go in and ask the next time. Sean's appearance can be intimidating, given his size.

So, we went back to the lot, and Sean told everyone who'd listen about the motel we'd been to. Someone said that they had been there and got the same response. "Didn't help, Scooby, that you were wearing your show shirt."

Sean said he didn't think that should matter, that they all knew the fair was that weekend. He groused about it all night.

Later, he told me that he was sorry he disappointed me. I asked how he disappointed me, and he said that he wanted to get a room for us so we could have privacy.

"Honey," I said softly, "there will be other chances. I don't mind staying in the bunkhouse. At least we have a roof over our heads. Think of the money we saved."

Sean had to concede that I had a point. We did save money. He laughed that crazy laugh of his and kissed my forehead. "I love you," he said.

"Love you, too, Scooby Doo."

The next morning, we went to our respective jobs and worked our asses off. This day was longer because opening day was tomorrow, so there was much to be done.

Everything at the Dough had to be spotless, because the Health Department was coming out that afternoon to inspect. Without the Inspectors signature on the certificate we'd be given, we couldn't open for business. We had nothing to worry about because we passed muster without any trouble.

Wednesday also saw the arrival of a twenty-two year old ride jock named Mikey. He was a big kid, about six-two and three hundred pounds, with unruly white-blond curls. Val and Shell had worked with him before, and he considered them his surrogate moms. He was a sweetheart, and apparently, had walked to Springfield all the way from Dover-Foxcroft! The trip took him five days. He would be staying in Val's trailer, along with Val's husband, Danny, and Shell and Molly. I was the only one who slept in the bunkhouse, and that was only because of Sean.

Wednesday was also payday for the ride jocks. They got paid at five in the afternoon on days when the fair was closed. If he was lucky, Sean would see $275.00 after deductions for taxes, room and board, and any draws (i.e. loan) taken against his pay the week before. Sean only took draws when it was absolutely necessary, and sometimes, he would be denied. A draw was how he paid for our motel room the first night we spent together, so when he told me he had to borrow the money, it wasn't far from the truth. He borrowed it from himself.

I wouldn't get paid until the fair ended, as my money would come out of the profits. I was lucky to have my unemployment money for those times I needed cash, so I wouldn't have to take a draw from my expected pay.

No one on the lot knew I had money other than what I was making at the Dough, and Sean wanted to keep it that way. He was afraid I'd get mugged or robbed. He trusted no one (other than me) on the lot as far as money was concerned.

After we were done for the day, I told Sean I needed to send my landlord my rent, and could we please try to get off the lot without having to take a carload of folks with us? Sean thought that was a great idea, as we hadn't spent time alone for more than a couple of hours (except to sleep) since we arrived in Springfield.

Shortly after five-thirty, we managed to get off the lot alone. I was driving down Route 6 when Sean looked at his paystub. He got paid in cash and thought it looked a little short this week. He hadn't taken a draw, so he wanted to see what the stub said.

"Aw shit..." he cried.

"What?"

"They're charging me double room and board for having you with me. They told me they wouldn't."

"How much?" I really had no idea how much room and board was.

"Fifty."

"Each?!" I gasped.

"No, twenty-five for both of us."

Sean said he'd talk to Ken, the paymaster, about that the next day. It was Ken, apparently, that told Sean that if I stayed with the show, he wouldn't charge Sean double. "So, he lied, basically," I said.

"Yep."

Why didn't this revelation surprise me? I offered to pay the twenty-five bucks a week, but Sean said not to worry about it, that having me there was worth far more than twenty-five dollars.

We were back at Wal-Mart, as it had an ATM machine, and I could buy a money order and stamps at the customer service counter. All I needed was some envelopes. Sean bought me a box of #10 envelopes, and I scribbled a note to my landlord. I then put the money order and the note inside, sealed it and addressed and stamped it. I popped it into the mailbox in front of the store. At least that chore was taken care of until next month. I only hoped my landlord understood why I was sending my rent in from Maine.

Frank Spicer was the man to whom I pay my rent every month. He was in his mid fifties and divorced. He had a reputation of being a slumlord, but he always made sure I had what I needed. I'd lived in his building (in two different apartments) for almost three years. He called me his "star tenant" because I always managed to pay on time.

When I got laid off, he cut me a little slack. He would take a little off my rent each month until I found other employment. What I had scribbled on the note I enclosed with the money order was that I was out of town visiting friends and looking for work. I wasn't going to tell him I was working for a carnival. Even he might find that hard to believe.

Sean and I headed back to the lot. We knew there was nothing out in town to do, and we'd pretty much given up on finding a motel room during this spot.

It was still pretty early, only eight-thirty or so, but the parties were going strong. The guys were drinking, and Sean soon joined in. The gals were meeting in Haley and Eddie's room (they had just gotten married before the stop in Bangor). Haley stuck her head out the open doorway and called to me, "hey Sara, come here and join us girls while the guys drink and fight!"

I laughed. I laughed because that's exactly what would happen. One could put money on it. I climbed inside and saw that there were several gals I had already met, and a couple I hadn't. Haley made introductions ("This is Sara. She's Scooby's girl.") and I took a seat on the bunk next to Autumn. Everyone was smoking (just cigarettes, but still...) and drinking. Haley handed me a Coke, knowing (although how, I don't know. Maybe Sean said something to Eddie in passing) I didn't drink.

It seemed that everyone had questions for me, several of which I had already answered on other occasions. My favorite question, which I almost always got asked, was: "How did you end up here [at the carnival]?"

"The usual way. I drove." That always got a bit of a laugh.

The talk usually centered on working, gossip, sex, and men. The gossip was the worst because I don't like to hear gossip, and I certainly don't spread it. Sometimes, it was about people I know. And, before I was asked to join the other gals in Haley's room, the gossip was about me and Sean. That's why I got all the questions when I first got there. I hoped that I dispelled all the rumors going around about me and Sean, and they told me that they appreciated my honesty, and were glad the rumors turned out to be false.

Somewhere in another room, I could hear a radio playing Joe Nichols' "The Impossible". It drowned out the rap music in the room next door. I was sure Sean was enjoying that.

Eddie came to the door. Haley just lit up when she saw him. "Hey babe," he said; "I gotta take Brucie into town for somethin'. You wanna go?"

"Nah..." she said. "I'm having fun talkin' with the girls."

The time got away from us, and it was nearly midnight when the hen session broke up. I went to our room, but there were a gang of guys in there, and no Sean to be found.

"Where's Scooby?" I asked.

"Gone to the donikers," Eric said. Eric, Cliff, and Mikey were the only ones in there whose names I could remember. Everyone else I knew on sight, enough to say hello, but names escaped me.

"You're Sara, aren't you? Scooby was talkin' 'bout you." This from one of the guys whose name I didn't know.

"I was when I woke up this morning," I said; "What kinda lies Scooby been telling about me?"

He didn't know how to take that. Sean then reappeared and shooed everyone out of the room, saying, "My baby needs her beauty sleep, and maybe I can get some by some miracle."

"Get what, Scoob? Beauty or sleep?"

Ha, ha, I thought.

When everyone was gone, Sean closed and locked the door. We were alone again.

"You have fun with the ladies, Sara?"

"Yeah, I did. Did you know there were rumors going around about us?"

"About us? I'd heard good stuff about you, but I don't hear the stuff about me."

"Yeah. Just some shit about what could I possibly see in you, that you're a troublemaker, you drink too much. Petty stuff like that. It's nothing to worry about."

Sean seemed to be getting a little angry, then thought better of it and calmed down. "Shit like that makes me mad."

"That's what the gossipmongers want, Sean. They want it to piss you off. The secret is to see it as it is, gossip, and then forget about it. It's not worth getting all riled up over."

"So, it's just shit."

"Yeah, Sean. Just flush it down the drain. That's how I got through high school and college. I ignored all the petty shit. It's not worth my time."

Sean said that was something he had to work on, not caring what people thought and not believing everything he heard. He had to consider that things said about other people more than likely weren't true.

We got ready for bed, but I could tell that Sean was still thinking about rumors and gossip, and that just made him mad. Soon, though, he held me and kissed my forehead. "Why are you so wise, Sara?" he asked.

I told him I honestly didn't know. I just tried to live my life the best way I know how. Sean said maybe I was a good influence on him.

Sean soon was snoring away, but I remained awake.

The next morning, opening day, began early. Everyone, ride jocks and joinies, had an eight o'clock work call. The management wanted to have a meeting about what was expected during this spot.

Everyone groused about the meeting, because most people knew what was expected and that the meeting was a colossal waste of time. But, we all were there. Something about the word "mandatory" got everyone's attention, especially when the penalty for non-attendance was to be kicked off the lot. In other words, be there or be fired.

I saw quite a few hangovers in the crowd. That was one of the things discussed at the meeting: there was absolutely no drinking of alcohol on the midway, whether you're working or not. If you have a show shirt on, you behave yourself. That only made sense to me, and the fact that they had to remind people kind of got to me.

Further: no public displays of affection, no fighting, the customer is always right, and enforce ride safety at all times. "It's our ass on the line out there," the midway manager, Brian, said.

I'm sure I wasn't the only one who thought these were no-brainers, but it takes a few to ruin it for all of us.

The gates for the exhibits were about to open. That meant the midway would open in an hour. There was quite a bit to do at this fair, and I hoped I would be able to see at least some of it. There was a classic car exhibit I really wanted to check out if time permitted. I wanted to see if there were other 1969 Camaros out there that looked as good as mine usually did. Right now, she was covered in dust from the constant driving on dirt roads leading in and out of the fairgrounds. Sean told me to make sure that the car was locked and personal stuff stored in the trunk. He didn't have to tell me that there were crooks out there. My car had been broken into twice that summer, before I met Sean, and I had spent quite a bit of money to make it burglar-proof. Is that what car alarms are for, even for a thirty-three year old car?

I went over to the Dough, and helped prepare to open. Val and Shell were preparing the dough to be fried, Molly was filling the powdered sugar and brown sugar shakers, and I wiped down the counters, straightened paper plates and napkins, and made sure that the butter container was kept full.

Our joint was in a prime location, just as people came onto the midway. We were also near the grandstands, where the tractor pull and other farm contests were held. Country singer Carolyn Dawn Johnson would perform during the fair, singing her current hit, "Complicated" (not to be confused with a song by the same name by Avril Lavigne).

However, I was not near enough to my car to possibly hear the alarm go off. If the alarm was activated, it would stop by itself within fifteen seconds. It was very loud, but not louder than the activity on the midway. It would scare anyone away.

Val told me that I could take breaks every two hours if it wasn't busy, and for most of the first day, it wasn't. I got to walk around the midway, go see Sean at the Wheel, and talk to other carnies, because if the Dough wasn't busy, neither were the rides and games.

Jenny and Diane were working the Duck Pond. Autumn was at the GoGator, Kristine at the carousel, and Meghan at the Crazy Bus. And, we were all bored.

When I wasn't chatting up the gals at the various kiddie rides, I was running across the way getting pull-tab tickets for Val and Shell. Those two were addicted to those stupid things! Still, between the two of them, they won a good amount of money.

Nighttime was a different story. It got pretty busy from about six onward. We were cranking out "doughboys" like there was no tomorrow. I was working the cash register, and taking quite a few large denomination bills ("ya got change for a fifty, sweetheart?").

Shell was impressed that I actually knew how to count back change. Before I joined them, they had Kristine working with them, and she had no idea how to count change. Not even a tutorial could help this girl, so they had to let her go. I guess she was much better suited to run the carousel. Just push a button-- how hard could that be??

The midway closed at eleven, and we were done cleaning up and closing down by eleven-thirty. My feet were killing me! It had to get easier from here. My back was begging for mercy.

I went to the bunkhouse, and Sean was already there. He had heard some talk on the midway about a small group being sent from our unit to Hebron, Connecticut to work with Unit One (we were Unit Three) at the Hebron Harvest Fest the following weekend.

"I was mentioned as a possible member of that group," Sean said. "So don't be surprised if we end up going to Connecticut next week. Let Val know, okay?"

I said I'd do that, so Val could find someone to replace me for that weekend, because I knew the Dough was going on to a spot in Massachusetts.

Sean told me that work on the Wheel today went well. He didn't have to kick anyone off for flaunting the safety rules, but Cliff decided that he was going to take two and three hour breaks, leaving Sean there alone. Sean didn't like that much.

He also talked to the paymaster about the double room and board charges on Sean's check, and was told he would continue to pay double as long as I remained with the show. Since I wasn't a ride jock and not on the official payroll, I would have to pay for my room and board. Sean wasn't happy about this either, but would let it stand. Again, I offered to pay Sean the $25, but he wouldn't hear of it. It was worth it to have me there.

Next morning, I informed Val that I might be going to Hebron the following weekend if Sean was chosen to go. Val had heard the rumor, and told me that would be okay, because Molly could fill in for me if that were the case. "But," Val told me, "make sure you get paid for any work you do there. Unit One has a reputation of treating greenhelp like crap. With Scooby being there, they wouldn't dare!" I laughed and said I would.

Shell told me to be careful of the Unit One guys. "They're a nasty bunch of bastards." I thought I knew why Shell made that comment. One of the Unit One ride jocks was the father of Molly's baby, and dumped her when he found out. Nice, I thought sarcastically.

The second day of the fair was pretty busy, and yet, I was able to take several breaks because we had a lot of extra help. Not only did Molly pitch in occasionally, but we had several other folks helping out as well. I got to see the classic cars, but not a Camaro in the bunch. Sean and I even got to take one break together, and we went to see the tractor pull and have Italian sausage sandwiches at Slim's joint. Slim was in his usual form, giving Sean shit for all kinds of things, real and imagined. He'd say things like, "What's an ugly motherfucker like you doin' with this gorgeous girl?"

Or, "Ya know, I could just tell everyone about Sara, and how I'm gonna take her from you."

Or, "Why don't you tell Sara about that girl in Bangor you were fuckin before she met you?"

Slim did all this because he didn't like Sean for whatever his personal reasons were. He was trying to create doubt in my mind about the man I was involved with.

After we left Slim's joint, Sean told me not to believe anything Slim said, because Slim was a jerk. "There was no other girl in Bangor, Sara. I'd been with the show a week before I met you."

"Oh, come on now, Sean. Do you honestly think that I believe anything that blowhard says?"

"No, I know you can make up your own mind, but I just wanted to tell you that the last woman I was with before you was my ex-wife. That was in April, just before our divorce was final. I left Wisconsin in May."

I told Sean he didn't have to explain himself, that he had been honest with me so far, and I had no reason to not believe him. I could tell that what Slim had said pissed him off. "Remember what I told you the other night about the petty shit? Slim is just petty. He does this to you just to piss you off."

"I know, Sara. You're right."

"Okay," I said, looking at my watch. "I have to get back to the Dough. Come on over when you get another break."

Sean said he would and headed back to the Wheel. I just wished that Sean wouldn't let stuff like what Slim said upset him. He was a good man, but still had some growing up to do. I daresay we all had some growing up to do.

Later in the afternoon, Sean did return to the Dough. He waited for me to get done with a group of customers, then we went to talk.

"Guess where we're goin next weekend?"

"Hebron?" I asked, knowing the answer was yes.

"Yep. You, me, Doc, Autumn, Steve, Jenny, and a few others. As soon as we're done with teardown Monday night, we get on the road to Hebron. We have to make a stop at Winter Quarters in Salisbury, Mass., but we should be in Hebron by noon."

I thought it was nice that they told us enough in advance so we could prepare for the trip. And the stop at Winter Quarters would put me, however briefly, in familiar territory. Lawrence was about half and hour from Salisbury. I wondered if I would be able to drive home and get more clothes.

Sean had to get back to his post, but he wanted to tell me what had been decided regarding the rumors. I went back to the Dough joint and told Val that Sean and I were definitely going to Connecticut next weekend. She thanked me for keeping her apprised of the situation, and I told her that I would never leave her hanging. Val said she'd now be able to tell Molly she was definitely working at the next spot.

As day turned into evening, the midway got busy, but not as busy as it had been. We were all kind of disappointed with the night's receipts. The next day was "wristband day". Wristbands would allow patrons to ride the rides all day without having to purchase tickets. These special days were usually big moneymakers, so a lot of our profit would come from this one day. Val warned us that it would be busy, and to not expect to take as many breaks as we had been.

At eleven, we got the all clear to close for the night. We did the usual clean up chores, locked things up and turned in. I headed back to the bunkhouse, but realized that Sean wasn't there yet and headed over to the Wheel. Cliff and Sean were talking to Brian. It looked like things were getting heated, so I kept my distance. Brian was pissed off about something, and Sean was taking exception to what was being said. I could hear angry voices, but couldn't make out words. I was too far away.

I then saw Brian stalk off. Sean saw me and motioned me over. "What was that all about," I asked.

"Brian is going to leave Cliff shorthanded at the next spot because I'm going to Hebron," Sean said, the anger still in his voice. "And he won't be getting anyone to fill in for me. I only said that it wasn't fair to leave Cliff up in the air like that. Brian got all bent out of shape and walked off."

"Scoob, calm down there," Cliff said. "Brian's pulled this shit on me before. He'll find someone to help out, but if he can't, I can manage the Wheel on my own. I've done it hundreds of times."

"That still doesn't make it right," Sean said.

"That's the nature of the biz, Scooby. You should know that."

Cliff then told Sean to go to the bunkhouse and calm down. "We'll work something out tomorrow. Get some rest, have a couple of cold ones, be good to your girl." Cliff then winked at me and walked away.

Sean just stood there. I couldn't tell what he was thinking. "You okay, Sean?" I asked.

"Yeah...I will be."

We walked silently back to the bunkhouse. It was strangely quiet. I wondered where all the people went. It was about eleven forty-five. I knew I needed to get to bed, because I was beat.

Sean saw someone and asked where everyone was. "In their rooms or tents, I guess. Did you try the brownies yet?"

Sean's eyebrow went up. "What brownies?"

Haley came out of her room about then. "Hey Scooby, want some brownies?" She looked like she was drunk. "Man, they are so awesome!"

Sean went into Haley's room, and Eddie was there with a pan of brownies. He wasn't much better off than his wife. Mikey and Brucie were there, too, and someone was puking into a trash can behind the bunkhouse.

I realized then that these were not ordinary brownies. Sean came back with two brownies and I saw for myself what was up. These brownies were laced with marijuana! I passed on the one Sean brought for me, but he ate his. Not ten minutes later, he was sick.

"Oh, babe," he groaned. "Those fuckin' brownies are makin' me feelin' rough."

"Where did the brownies come from? Certainly Paul didn't bake 'em."

I heard later that the brownies were a "gift" from the couple who collected the cans to recycle. They were leaving the fair, and wanted to give something to the people who'd been so nice to them.

As Sean threw up on the ground, I was thinking, some gift! I don't think pot was meant to be ingested, if Sean was any indication. That would be like eating the tobacco from a cigarette. Yuk!

I helped Sean to our room and he lay down on the bunk. He was feeling better, but not completely. I got ready for bed and lay down next to him. I asked if he was going to be all right, and he said he should feel better in the morning.

He got up at least once during the night to throw up again. I'm glad I didn't eat mine, or else both of us would be sick.

The pot brownies were the main topic of discussion at the cookshack the following morning. Those who didn't get sick got high, but everyone agreed that they tasted terrible. I wondered what ever possessed that couple to think that pot-laced brownies were a gift. There was talk that the reason they left was because they were the source of all the pot people were smoking before the fair opened. There was supposed to be a "zero tolerance" policy for drugs, but that was frequently ignored. Apparently, if you're caught with drugs, you get thrown off the lot. I guess if you're flagrantly breaking the rules, then you get what you deserve.

However, the pot brownies were soon forgotten when everyone realized it was wristband day. "I fuckin' hate wristband day!" was uttered by more than one person. The kids who came to ride rides were more obnoxious than usual on wristband day. Sean said that he thought parents buy the wristbands just to get the kids out of their hair while they (the parents) go and see other things around the fairgrounds.

All in all, the day went well for everyone in the show. Yes, there were the bratty teens that give ride jocks fits. Sean threw kids off the Wheel all day long because they thought they could get away with acting in an unsafe manner. One kid got into a shouting match with Sean, until the kid realized that he didn't stand a chance against a three hundred pound ride jock with an attitude.

Rules were rules, Sean told me he told the kid, and that if he didn't feel like following them, then "don't get on my ride." The kid later showed up with his father, and Sean told the father the same thing, and that if he had a problem with that, then go to the midway office and talk to management.

We did great at the Dough. We were going balls to the wall all day. There weren't too many breaks, though, and I got through it all right with sore feet. I was glad when the day was over. All I wanted to do was sleep.

I found out that I needed to do laundry in the worst way. I was out of clean socks and nearly out of underwear. I needed to wash my sneakers, and my two show shirts smelled like fried dough. I knew that there was no way I was going to be able to do laundry unless I got up really early the next morning. So, the show shirts would have to smell like stale grease for another day. I could hand wash undies and socks if I had to. My sneaks would just have to remain covered in dust.

I really needed to get more clothes. I had only packed for a weekend, and it seemed like that was a million years ago.

I sighed as I got into bed that night. Sean was already asleep, still feeling a little achy from his pot brownie misadventure from the night before.

The crazy things we do for love.

The rest of the fair went okay. No more excitement than any other day at the county fair.

We closed late Monday night, September first, which was Labor Day. Those of us who were going to Hebron had to go to a meeting with Andy, who would be our "fearless leader" while we were there (as in, if there were problems, he was the go-to guy). Andy owned several of the games that we would be taking with us, so all of his workers (which included Diane, Jenny, Doc, Jenny's half-brother Hank, Jr., and his father, Hank, Sr.) would be going along as well. Unit One needed some ride jocks, so that's how Sean got chosen to go. Autumn and Steve were going, too, because some of the other rides were short a few operators.

So where did I fit into this ragtag bunch? Nowhere, really, that I could see. Sean thought that I could run a kiddie ride, or work in one of Andy's games. The mystery was cleared up when Andy asked if it were true I knew how to solder. I said it was true, that I had spent nearly four years at a job where that was how I spent the majority of my workday. He said, "Sara. I'm so glad to hear that. I'd heard a rumor that you could, so I told the midway manager with Unit One that I had a solderer. One of their Zamps had a circuit break in its board, and needed someone who could fix it. Guess you're our girl."

Next thing I know, I'm on Andy's cell talking to this guy on the lot in Hebron telling him of my experience with a soldering iron and circuit boards. I saw Sean off to one side, with this very amused look on his face. By the tone of voice of the man I was talking to, he seemed amused, too, but for an entirely different reason.

After I gave Andy back his cell phone, I went over to where Sean, Steve and Autumn were standing. Steve and Autumn would ride with Sean and me.

"Who were you talkin' to?" Sean asked.

"Some guy who I get the feeling that he didn't believe I could do the job he needed me to do, but would give me a chance."

Sean put his arm around my shoulders and told Autumn, Steve and several other standing around that, "my baby can do anything! Those Unit One jerks can't doubt my baby now, can they?"

The only thought going through my brain was, I'll show 'em, the bastards!

About 12:30am on Tuesday the Second, we left Springfield and started out for Connecticut.

And, everything that could possibly go wrong, did.

We hadn't even left Springfield when we passed a cop on the road going the other way. Sean was driving just a little too fast (all with his self-proclaimed theme song blaring away on the radio) and the cop doubled back to catch us. Sean, whose license had expired, turned into this empty driveway and had me switch with him. By the time the cop caught up with us, I was in the driver's seat, and Sean was pretending to check the tires on the car. The cop asked if we'd seen the car that sped by. We said we saw a car flying down the road, and that we'd been there checking the tires for about 5 minutes. Sean even asked to see the cop's flashlight. I called out to Sean, asking if the tires were okay, and he said yes they were, that whatever we'd run over didn't appear to do any damage. The cop let us go, and I drove to where we were to meet the others going to Connecticut. Sean was quite proud of himself for getting us out of a speeding ticket. He laughed that crazy laugh of his, and rehashed the whole episode all the way to the convenience store where we were to meet the others going to Hebron. We'd switched stations, and it, too was playing Move by Ludacris:

Because, that was exactly what Sean was doing down Route 6: more than "a hundred on the highway"!

Then, the truck of one of the gals driving was leaking transmission fluid, and the trailers carrying two of the rides blew a tire. It was cold and rainy. We were beyond dog tired, and the getting lost, pulling over for stragglers, and multiple stops for any myriad of reasons was getting old fast. All I wanted to do is get some sleep so I can take a turn at driving.

The next thing I know, we're in Massachusetts! And it's daylight! "Hey, what happened to letting me drive, Sean?"

"You were sleepin', babe, and I'm not really all that tired. I just kept goin'."

"Where are we exactly?"

"In Mass., dear heart."

"Well, I know that, Sean, sheesh!" I looked out the window, and within a few minutes, I knew exactly where we were: Amesbury. Not far from Salisbury Beach and the "Winter Quarters".

We arrived there shortly thereafter. When I saw where it was, I thought, I must have passed by this place a million times on my way to the beach! It was pretty non-descript, looks wise.

I had no idea why we even were there. I did know that I didn't have time to run to Lawrence and get more clothes. We were only going to be there for a couple of hours...then that turned to three, and four, and by the fifth hour, I was really pissed. I was thirty minutes from home, and I couldn't get there without stranding four other people, because someone else told me "oh, we don't have time..."

We finally got back on the road around ten am, and made it into Hebron a couple of hours later. The fairgrounds were a few miles further up the road.

We'd passed this bridge that totally cracked us all up. Guarding each side of it were these gigantic frogs! They just sat there in repose, as if they were waiting for something to happen. I wished that I had a camera handy, because that bridge was pretty comical.

We soon arrived at the lot, and there was nothing set up yet. We were under the impression that there'd be some activity, but all the ride jocks were just sitting around like there was nothing to do.

"What the fuck are they waiting for?" Steve asked, rather disgusted.

"Us, probably," I said off handedly. Little did I realize that I was right.

"What a bunch of lazy bastards," Sean said as he parked the car.

We all got out of the car and walked over to someone who looked like they knew what they were doing. "Bro," Sean said; "where do we find the midway office?"

The rather bored looking young man just pointed to a grouping of motorhomes off in the distance. He said nothing.

We sauntered over there, and met with the meanest woman I've ever met. Her name was Helen, and this was her show, and you did things her way, or hit the road, Jack.

She treated us like we were the scum of the Earth. "You must be part of the Unit Three crew. You all greenhelp?"

"Not all of us, ma'am," Sean said, taking charge. "Sara is really the only greenhelp. The rest of us are ride jocks."

Helen looked at me with the most incredulous look. "You're Sara??" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am, I'm Sara." I said. I was when I got up this morning, I thought. Geez, what's the big deal with this?

"The same Sara who's going to fix our Zamps? Hell, honey, you ain't anything like I imagined."

I wasn't sure I wanted to know what she imagined I looked like, but whatever it was, I wasn't it. I was told that the "Zamps" were kiddie rides manufactured by Zamperla, so I at least didn't look like the idiot I felt like at that moment.

"I can't believe a nice girl like you not only knows how to use a soldering iron, but actually works for this show!" Helen, I was beginning to realize, was impressed.

Sean and the others just stood there. Helen took note of this and said, "Well what are you guys waiting for? You got some rides to build!"