My eyes scavenge the busy scene; long lineups and vibrant machinery, and here and there, some peppy kid grinning daringly at a cloud of cotton candy on a stick. In this moment of observation, my eyes fall upon a bright red-and-yellow warning sign on the back of the cart in front of the one I’m in; a graphic demonstration of the seating arrangement for the ride I am about to embark on with my older sister and her friend. The sign, though flamboyantly neon and quite directly in my view, failed to inform me soon enough that the fellow rider of the greatest mass must be seated towards the outer side of the cart, and therefore the rider of the smallest mass must be seated towards the inside. I’ve just realized that we’ve done the exact opposite.

The ride begins. It gradually increases speed while preceding in a circular motion on a rounded track. At the same time, the train of carts begin to lean towards the outside, and my sister and her friend are suddenly slipping towards me. We all collide like dominos, bound together by gravity. But each time the ride makes a round, the pulling force grows stronger. So strong it’s a painful burden for the person on the outermost end-me! When the ride has reached its climax, my sister and her friend are both forced to crush my petite capacity. They struggle helplessly trying to get a grip on the other end of the cart and pull themselves off, but the ride gives no chances. The force of gravity is too strong to fight, and within their attempt, it only gets stronger. I scream as my sister’s weight multiplies with gravitational pull and wedges into my side. It feels like being stamped with a boulder. My screaming is mistaken for a portrayal of how much fun I am having. As he just stands there taking photos of us and cheering, little does my dad know that I’m going through hell.

On the other side of my sister, the heaviest of us is her friend. I can see that they are both held against their own will here, yet I do not hesitate to place blame. The rounded track begins to feel triangular, the turns seeming sharper, more unbearable as we go. We turn a corner and my sister is on my lap! Everything seems heavier now-her weight, my own head, the air! My bones will definitely falter under her countless mass.

The crude intensity of the pain is too much, I can’t even workup the strength to cry. My life flashes before my eyes. I enter an astounding state of hysteria, thinking how hilarious my current circumstance is; my lungs are obstructed by my own sister’s inability to stop suffocating me! Her weight seems to channel itself all towards one unfortunate part of me; my bladder. I give in to the pressure exerted here, and I find that I’ve relieved myself of one heavy problem.

It’s finally over-and I don’t mean my life. I watch the cart door open, letting in air and light. I step out into the sun and take a deep breath. My face moist with tears, although I don’t remember crying. Then again I’ve already forgotten the degree of pain I’ve just endured through those hellish 5 minutes of torture. I already know what ride I will go on next, but I will be riding alone.

Sudden shade falls over me and I turn around. My sister and her friend have joined me in my moment of glory. but they tower over me, angered. “Why are we wet?!” my sister questions. Suddenly I am aware of the warm dampness of my skirt. In my defence, I didn’t think I was going to live to have to explain myself, that the reason they are wet is because I peed all over them.