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Published: October 21st 2009
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Its hot, but not too hot, its more sticky than hot. Im standing in shade, but the sun rays still hound me as enter hour number six of this tiresome day. It’s a group of Asian kids! A cheeky smile creeps across my famished but attentive face. “Two-in to win guys, just two-in to win”! Half cracked smiles and innocent giggles are returned. Not to worry, my A-game is brought to the table. I catch the eye of a teenager who straying from the herd, adorns a cheap knock-off of Spongebob Squarepants. Locking in on my target I skip down to my yellow stuffed friend, to some a cuddly toy, to me a mere pawn in the wicked game I play. “Just two in for Spongebob”! I reiterate, introduce pigeon english (portraying simplicity) and thrust a ball into her hand, “I - give - you - six, you - get - in - two, I give you Spongebob”. Her face gleams with excitement, her inquisitive friends can’t help but move closer to see this amazing toy give-away! (At this point I may toss a friend a ball, if I wish to take home more dollars). The obvious question of money inevitably arises. “10 Dollars - Six balls” I quickly recite but reiterate what she foolishly thinks are her chances. “10 Dollars - you get Spongebob”. Effortlessly tossing two balls from my position into the wide plastic bucket I hit home the games ease. She pays, she throws, she loses! “Ooooh, that was so close”, my surprised demeanour is well crafted at this stage. I entice her friend with more grand allusions of a cuddly toy. This time it’s rigged. One ball in. I build tension; “just one more for Spongebob”. The final rubber ball bounces around the oily plastic bucket and slithers out leaving only broken hearts. Not a hope! Like a master teasing his kitten with string I chuckle and decide I have catch my prey just once more. Both girls are called over. I lean in and lower my voice as if I’m breaking the rules with this fantastic offer; “10 dollars each, 6 ball each, one in - you both win”. The poor souls reach back into bottomed out purses and the money is mine. Asian kids are too easy. Spongebob stays with me tonight.
Serving approximately 70,000 people on its main day the Ekka, or simply put ‘The Exhibition’ is Australia’s largest family attraction. Traditionally an agricultural fair, this far reaching, highly publicised event has evolved into a one stop shop for all that is Australia! Or “Stray-ya” as rural queenslanders proudly put it. From tractor trailers to
backwards dressing gowns, if its 100%!s(MISSING)tray’yan made, it is paraded at the Ekka. On my well deserved lunch break I wander the back lanes of this monstrosity of a fair hoping to find the cheapest bit of nosh for my weary soul. Lunch is at the central amphitheatre today, but it has got to be devoured quickly. My nostrils are filling with the usual pungent farmyard aroma my sandwiches have come to know and love. “That’s a fine specimen!” my giddy subconscious comments, number 48 all the way from Maryborough, Queensland. A young stallion is paraded in front of a sun drenched arena dotted with balloon wielding youngsters, parents knee deep in cooler boxes. “Sure beats yesterday’s canine show-jumping featuring the brash ‘Chester’ from Darwin” my sarcasm goes wild as I crumple the tin foil remnants of my luke warm sambo’s into the bin. Passing the Brady bunch on my way back to the grind, I record four daughters sporting identical denim and matching expressions of awe and wonderment. They’re likened to a pack of Nebraskans frequenting a Garth Brooks concert circa 1992.
Amusement operators, playground technicians, whatever they want to call themselves, we know them as carnies and boy are they a hoot! Unlike some stereotypes theirs is pretty accurate. While conscripted at the carnival you meet all sorts of these fascinating creatures. From the old granny of the carnie confederation (who’s in charge of uniforms and staff cleanliness) and her delightful husband (in charge of stock) to the raw, fresh out of carnie school, sons. The guys who, at first sign of seeing cash leaking, will take you around back no questions asked for some fist-to-face time. There’s the waster carnies, with eyes sunken into the backs of their skulls and the comical carnies trying to run meagre scams on passers by, or on the occasional Irish backpacker (yours truly) who laughs right back at them, (pretending he’s seen it all but is deep down perturbed by these renegades of society).
With dodgy limps, cracked jaws, crooked eyes, these champions of the con are loveable characters nonetheless. You treat them right and they’ll do right by you. After all, the queen mother of our amusement company was a down to earth business woman. On my final day she even provided me with payslips, tax summaries and a sizeable chunk of cash to set me up on the local barstool for the week.
(Right “OK Mother” I actually spent it wisely, that last comment was just for the boys). What else have I done since last report? There was a fabulous weekend with my parents, the sailing, the barrier reef, nights out, friends flying home, diving sunken ships, climbing mountains, dancing in forests, swimming in lakes/beaches/pools, embracing
photography, working 8euro an hour at a glorified toll booth and all the time eating lots of pasta.
God I hate pasta!
Until next time.
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becca lewis
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i love it babe! you are such a comical writer. i hope you write a book one day :) then send it to me, so that i can read it.