Queasy Rider: Reporter Gives Self Fair Shake

A day at the fair, pigging out followed by some thrill rides, would be a cinch.

I’m not afraid of trying anything, especially some puny rides on a full stomach.

I’m a daredevil, so a day at the Orange County Fair with Alan, a friend from my high school days, would be no sweat.

We started at the Speed Track, described as a horizontal bungee-type ride in which two cars race each other.

No matter what, I thought, I had to beat Alan. Before the cars were stretched back on what looked like huge rubber bands, the ride attendant told us to step hard on the pedal when the green light came on. Meanwhile, from his car, Alan was telling me this guy was warning him not to let me beat him. I just smiled.

It may have been the adrenaline, or maybe it was hearing my name on the loudspeaker, but before the green light came on, I stepped on the pedal. I was off, with Alan seconds behind me.

I couldn’t believe it. I cheated, but as I explained to him for the rest of the day, it was unintentional. And the ride? As my children, Julia and Richard, would say, it was “cinchy.”

The next stop was the Chuck Wagon, an encampment-style food area that boasted Texas barbecue. We ate delicious ribs, toast and lemonade.

Next on my agenda was the cream puff booth near the Heritage Stage. The whipped cream treat was huge and laden with calories, but it was good and only made me more eager to move on to the strawberry funnel cakes topped with lots of strawberries.

“All that food is swishing around in my stomach,” I said as we sat soaking in the sun and atmosphere. “Wouldn’t it make sense that if you’re upside down on a ride, the food will go in the same direction? Maybe we should start out on the Ferris wheel.”

“To get acclimated?” Alan asked.

“Exactly.”

Photographer Richard Hartog arrived and took pictures of Alan and me as we strapped ourselves into the Inverter. The ride, which looked like a lot of upside-down fun, was a breeze.

The next one, however, wasn’t.

On the Evolution, I whirled about upside down, my body at least five inches off the seat. Alan told me later that my hands were glued to the handlebars and my knuckles were white. How in the world did he manage to notice that? My only thoughts were (1) Did they safety-check this thing? and (2) Maybe I should have asked.

I wasn’t scared, though; I was just thinking of my welfare.

A bit later, after a slice of pepperoni pizza and a chocolate-dipped vanilla ice cream cone, I was ready for more.

The Kamikaze ride can be described as two boat-like vessels swinging upside down and around and around. Alan had gone home by this time, so Richard and I sat in what looked like a cage. He said the cage prevented people from falling to the ground.

A few minutes later, to his horror, I accepted the ride attendant’s invitation to go on again.

At this point, my bravado was covering up this feeling inside that my pizza and ice cream, barely into the digestive stages, were clamoring to come out.

The queasy feelings worsened through Chaos, 1001 Nights, Spin Out and Top Spin. The neon lights, blaring music and the sensations that come from being tossed, spun, flung and whipped into the air were beginning to take a toll.

“You look a little red in the face,” Richard told me. “Are you OK?”

“Oh yes. I’m a daredevil,” I said, smiling weakly and clutching my stomach.

It was the classic ride, the Zipper, that proved to be my downfall. As the little cars hurled forward and backward, my stomach desperately wanted to follow.

Afterward, I limped to a bench and stretched out for almost an hour.

The Zipper ride attendants were laughing at me, but I could not, would not, get up. All I could say was “courtesy shuttle” and “I ain’t movin.’ ”

When I finally got up, Larry, the ride operator with a thick Texas accent, said, “All the cowboys at the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo threw up on this ride like little girls.”

That’s a comfort.