So to give Kath more time to work on the costumes, Ariel and I took Caroline to a local kiddie amusement park that she’d never been to. Dead center of the place was a carousel. Caroline absolutely loves carousels, ever since Kath took her on the main one at the Magic Kingdom in Disneyworld. Having bought unlimited ride passes for the sisters, I stood behind the fence as Caroline was seated on one of the horses, Ariel one horse over. The young lady running the ride clipped Caroline into place with a seatbelt that snapped behind her.
The carousel began turning. It was going at a pretty brisk pace, but Caroline was undaunted, grinning like a loon.
Then I noticed she appeared to be shifting off-center, hanging more toward the outside. That was when I saw that the belt had somehow come unclipped from behind her and was dangling uselessly on either side. Ariel hadn’t spotted it yet. The only thing that was preventing Caroline from being flung off the carousel at high speed was her own grip on the pole.
The operator was in the middle of the carousel. I shouted over the music, “Shut it down! She’s not buckled in” as I yanked open the gate. The operator saw it and killed the power, but there’s no braking mechanism; it moves until it stops. Ariel, realizing, grabbed Caroline’s foot, but Caroline was now 3/4 of the way off the horse.
I ran alongside the carousel, grabbed one of the freestanding poles, and jumped on while it was still spinning, bounced between two horses like a pinball, got to Caroline and yanked her back up onto the horse. Caroline continued to grin. Not a trace of concern. I buckled the seatbelt around her myself this time, testing it. It must not have fully engaged the first time. The operator asked if I’d like to stand next to Caroline and just ride along, which was fine by me.
Ariel then went off to drive the Go-carts. And Caroline, who didn’t have to get off the carousel because there really wasn’t a line of kids waiting to get on, proceeded to ride to her heart’s content.
Forty five minutes.
Forty five frickin’ minutes of non-stop carousel. The more nauseated I got, the happier she got. Finally I couldn’t take it anymore, forcibly removed her from it and said, “We’re doing something else now.” I carried her away while she was kicking and screaming and yelling, “Horse! Horse!”
Later, as Caroline rode on the teacup ride with Ariel, I called Kath and said, “Just out of curiosity, how did you get Caroline off the merry go round at Disneyworld? Did she eventually tire of it?”
“No,” said Kathleen. “I had to carry her away while she was kicking and screaming.”
Twenty years from now, when they ask me at what point I knew she was going to be a jockey, I’ll be able to tell them. Although she’ll probably be over six feet tall, so maybe that’s not really a career path for her.
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