"Excuse me, Sir. Did you park your car in that lot over there?"
As a child, I spent a lot of time at the carnivals. Both my grandfather and uncle owned and operated them.
"Did you see a little midget with a tall green hat when you came through the gate there?"
Of course, I had free tickets to all the rides – tilt a whirl, octopus, chair plane, hammer, Ferris wheel, round up. I tired of them quickly and seeing the mentality of the ride boys who set them up, I never felt safe on them in the first place.
"Oh gosh, I hired that guy to pass out these promotional tickets to our Roll Down game here. I wonder what happened to him."
I was always fascinated by the carnival games, and spent a good deal of pocket change trying to win hunting knives, plaster crucifixes and assorted junk from Japan at the joints on the midway.
"You see, this ticket entitles you to one free game of roll down here at our tent. You just roll the balls into the tray and they fall into these little numbered holes."
Early on, I realized that certain games were not intended for eight-year old kids. There was a sinister atmosphere about them.
"Then we add up the numbers and if they total one hundred, you win a hundred dollars and this expensive Bulova wristwatch."
My grandfather never allowed the con games on his show, but he did let the gypsies set up a fortune-telling tent. I never went inside. I didn't like gypsies.
"Well, I'm sorry that the little guy wasn't there to give you the coupon. Here, let me give you this one for a free game."
There never seemed to be a shortage of suckers in the little hick towns.
"You've got nothing to lose and you might come up a winner."
