The American Middle Class

The ampersand and the semicolon are tools to distance myself from the lower rungs of middle America.

Judgy judgy judgy. That's me at the Marcus Hook carnival, despite the fact I'd likely find a more honest reception at Chi than GV. They lost power. I saw nothing but rust and R-clips. Every ride was a scaled down and less trustworthy version of my prototype childhood carnival. Maybe it is only a change in perspective coming from age. Katie did my make up to go out. I find much more comfort wearing make up in places nobody knows me. It's like dressing up, except they don't know I'm in costume. I loved it. I felt so cute. I could've flirted with any of the tattoo'd ride operators, but instead spent my time not riding rides to observe the people around me. A little girl left her newly won goldfish on the platform of an especially loud and rattly machine. Parents and small children were prone to yelling. While the carnival is usually a summer attraction, the jail-bait in shorts did not consider that it is still very much spring time and the nights get chilly. A mom and I discussed that while waiting for our parties enjoying the Berry-Go-Round. The power outage left the "coconut shrimp" stand without power but persevering in serving cold corn dogs. Alex made an interesting investment with the "egg custard" snow cone. It wasn't bad. The night was a success.