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ENLARGE
Cade Claughton, 13, and Brad Dancer, 13, enjoy the Scrambler Tuesday at the Douglas County Fair.
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ENLARGE
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Brad Dancer, 13, and friends wait in line for the Kamikaze ride Tuesday at the Douglas County Fair.
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Imagine, if you will, you are traveling through another dimension. A dimension not only of sight and sound, but of mind — and of big, twisty, many-armed machines that gyrate in circles and produce involuntary, blood-curdling screams. This is an area we call … the Fair Ride Zone.
Witness local teens Brad Dancer, Amanda Freeman and Cade Claughton. The day is Tuesday. It is an otherwise unassuming afternoon at the Douglas County Fair. Our subjects have been approached by a local news crew and invited to record for posterity their impressions as they leave each scream-inducing carnival attraction. They accept, and it is here that our story begins — or, rather, it begins at the spinning, mechanical whirlwind of a ride known as … El Niño.
(Cue creepy “Fair Ride Zone” music).
The News-Review caught up with Brad, 13, Amanda, 15, and Cade, 13, in the midst of their carnival ride adventures. The kids had been left to their own devices with a ride pass and an hour to kill before Tuesday night's Gretchen Wilson concert. Having taken a couple of warm-up rides on the Kamikaze and the aptly named Zero Gravity, the trio bounded over to experience the gale-force winds of El Niño.
Brad and Amanda deposited shoes and purse (soon to be followed by stomachs) onto the floor of the ride as the opening riffs of Billy Idol's “White Wedding” pierced the air from the ride's loudspeakers. The massive arm to which the riders' chairs were affixed rose up and began to spin, as the riders' legs dangled in mid-air. Soon, the three were raised up, flipped around and beaten up by every suborbital method of intestinal torture known to man.
Though weaving ever so slightly as they emerged from the gate at ride's end, the eager fairgoers were far from cowed by the experience.
“Gut-twisting fun,” pronounced Brad, a student at Camas Valley Charter School.
“Stomach-dropping,” echoed Amanda, who, like Cade, attends Umpqua Valley Christian School. “It's a ride that literally turns the world upside down … we're lucky we didn't go blegh.”
Run and maintained by Funtastic Traveling Shows, the rides featured at this year's Douglas County Fair include such high-velocity favorites as the Super Orbitor, Kamikaze, Starship 2000, Scrambler and numerous others. Other attractions include various rides for smaller children and familiar carnival game standbys such as Skee Ball, basketball shooting, and the strong-man sledgehammer test.
Having successfully conquered the terrors of El Niño, the three loped off to experience the gastronomic horrors of Starship 2000, which subjects its occupants to NASA-caliber G-forces inside a closed spaceship-looking compartment.
As the three kids didn't fail to note, the Starship's unique construction means any stomach fluids released during the ride stay inside with the occupants. Undaunted, Brad, Amber and Cade stepped inside the craft and took their places standing against the wall.
The cylindrical craft turned at the gentle speed of a space-age carousel at first, though it soon whipped its occupants round at dizzying velocities for three minutes of sheer, joyous calamity.
“It was nauseating,” proclaimed Amber at ride's end. “You couldn't even look at your hands.”
“It's like a magnet,” reflected Brad. “You stay on the wall and you don't move.”
Ambling across the carnival game area, the intrepid trio next braved the high-pressure sales pitches of the carnival game hawkers.
“Pop a balloon, get a prize,” called one attendant.
“Who's ready to win a prize?” cried another.
Brad was ready — ready enough to try his hand at knocking over three measly milk bottles with a softball. As the iron-weighted bottles soon proved, however, it was Brad's fastball that was measly on Tuesday.
Amanda tried her luck at another game, with similar results.
Having slaked their thirst for gaming, the kids decided it was time to go Kamikaze again.
A ride that features two counterweighted passenger cars swinging round in opposing directions like massive twin mallets, the Kamikaze is not for the weak of stomach. Perhaps doubting her own intestinal fortitude, Amanda bowed out of the second Kamikaze mission, though Brad and Cade forged on gamely.
Strapped in like cosmonauts inside their caged passenger cars, the two teens betrayed no fear as the machine began to whine and whir, rocking them first one way and then the opposite. Climbing ever higher, the ride paused each time it reached the peak of its swing to let its occupants ponder the drop to come before plunging downward like a giant pendulum.
Loose change tinkled to the ground as gravity emptied the pockets of the riders while they were upside down. At last the twin hammers rocked their way to a rest, and Brad and Cade ambled off the platform.
The ride had taken its toll. A queasy-looking Brad noted his recent Subway sandwich meal was suddenly not agreeing with him.
“I'm feeling like I'm gonna taste that foot-long again,” he said with a sigh.
A sickening feeling of déjà vu that has afflicted many a man who has dared to tempt his fate inside of … The Fair Ride Zone.
Witness local teens Brad Dancer, Amanda Freeman and Cade Claughton. The day is Tuesday. It is an otherwise unassuming afternoon at the Douglas County Fair. Our subjects have been approached by a local news crew and invited to record for posterity their impressions as they leave each scream-inducing carnival attraction. They accept, and it is here that our story begins — or, rather, it begins at the spinning, mechanical whirlwind of a ride known as … El Niño.
(Cue creepy “Fair Ride Zone” music).
The News-Review caught up with Brad, 13, Amanda, 15, and Cade, 13, in the midst of their carnival ride adventures. The kids had been left to their own devices with a ride pass and an hour to kill before Tuesday night's Gretchen Wilson concert. Having taken a couple of warm-up rides on the Kamikaze and the aptly named Zero Gravity, the trio bounded over to experience the gale-force winds of El Niño.
Brad and Amanda deposited shoes and purse (soon to be followed by stomachs) onto the floor of the ride as the opening riffs of Billy Idol's “White Wedding” pierced the air from the ride's loudspeakers. The massive arm to which the riders' chairs were affixed rose up and began to spin, as the riders' legs dangled in mid-air. Soon, the three were raised up, flipped around and beaten up by every suborbital method of intestinal torture known to man.
Though weaving ever so slightly as they emerged from the gate at ride's end, the eager fairgoers were far from cowed by the experience.
“Gut-twisting fun,” pronounced Brad, a student at Camas Valley Charter School.
“Stomach-dropping,” echoed Amanda, who, like Cade, attends Umpqua Valley Christian School. “It's a ride that literally turns the world upside down … we're lucky we didn't go blegh.”
Run and maintained by Funtastic Traveling Shows, the rides featured at this year's Douglas County Fair include such high-velocity favorites as the Super Orbitor, Kamikaze, Starship 2000, Scrambler and numerous others. Other attractions include various rides for smaller children and familiar carnival game standbys such as Skee Ball, basketball shooting, and the strong-man sledgehammer test.
Having successfully conquered the terrors of El Niño, the three loped off to experience the gastronomic horrors of Starship 2000, which subjects its occupants to NASA-caliber G-forces inside a closed spaceship-looking compartment.
As the three kids didn't fail to note, the Starship's unique construction means any stomach fluids released during the ride stay inside with the occupants. Undaunted, Brad, Amber and Cade stepped inside the craft and took their places standing against the wall.
The cylindrical craft turned at the gentle speed of a space-age carousel at first, though it soon whipped its occupants round at dizzying velocities for three minutes of sheer, joyous calamity.
“It was nauseating,” proclaimed Amber at ride's end. “You couldn't even look at your hands.”
“It's like a magnet,” reflected Brad. “You stay on the wall and you don't move.”
Ambling across the carnival game area, the intrepid trio next braved the high-pressure sales pitches of the carnival game hawkers.
“Pop a balloon, get a prize,” called one attendant.
“Who's ready to win a prize?” cried another.
Brad was ready — ready enough to try his hand at knocking over three measly milk bottles with a softball. As the iron-weighted bottles soon proved, however, it was Brad's fastball that was measly on Tuesday.
Amanda tried her luck at another game, with similar results.
Having slaked their thirst for gaming, the kids decided it was time to go Kamikaze again.
A ride that features two counterweighted passenger cars swinging round in opposing directions like massive twin mallets, the Kamikaze is not for the weak of stomach. Perhaps doubting her own intestinal fortitude, Amanda bowed out of the second Kamikaze mission, though Brad and Cade forged on gamely.
Strapped in like cosmonauts inside their caged passenger cars, the two teens betrayed no fear as the machine began to whine and whir, rocking them first one way and then the opposite. Climbing ever higher, the ride paused each time it reached the peak of its swing to let its occupants ponder the drop to come before plunging downward like a giant pendulum.
Loose change tinkled to the ground as gravity emptied the pockets of the riders while they were upside down. At last the twin hammers rocked their way to a rest, and Brad and Cade ambled off the platform.
The ride had taken its toll. A queasy-looking Brad noted his recent Subway sandwich meal was suddenly not agreeing with him.
“I'm feeling like I'm gonna taste that foot-long again,” he said with a sigh.
A sickening feeling of déjà vu that has afflicted many a man who has dared to tempt his fate inside of … The Fair Ride Zone.
