ANDY COMER: My trip to the carnival

Call me simple-minded, but nothing gets my attention like bright, shiny objects.

With that said, it should be no surprise that the carnivals sprouting up around the Valley, with their arrays of flashing lights mounted upon stomach-churning rides, have definitely caught my eye.

I couldn’t resist briefly wandering over to the small collection of rides and games set up across the street from The Monitor’s offices last week. I had plans to be in San Antonio all weekend, so I knew I wouldn’t have the chance to visit any other carnivals before they left town.

Or so I thought.

My plans for San Antonio, to make a long story short, fell through. I had been looking forward to the trip for quite a while, so obviously I was a bit disappointed when it didn’t happen — but at least I could go to the carnival if I wanted to.

You’re probably thinking one of two things right about now: “Is this one of those columns in which Andy yet again rambles on about his fascination with Katy Perry?” or “hasn’t this idiot been to a carnival before?” Yes, I will likely mention Katy Perry, and yes, I’ve been to a carnival before — but anyone who has been outside lately knows that there’s nothing like going to one of the many carnivals during November in the Rio Grande Valley. While the rest of America is chattering its teeth, the weather here is perfect for being outdoors, eating ridiculously unhealthy food and entrusting your life to rickety rides that look as if they might collapse at any minute. (Side note: I always think of Austin Powers talking about his fear of carnies whenever I pass by a carnival. “(They) smell like cabbage. Small hands.”)

On Sunday night, I went with my friends and my “boo” (that’s the way the cool kids refer to their girlfriend) to the carnival near Expressway 83 in Mission, which was easily twice the size of the one on Nolana Avenue in McAllen. With my 2-foot-tall green alien cup full of Coke, I proceeded to try my luck at the numerous games of dumb luck skill. At the basketball toss, the carny “turned a blind eye” while we all got an extra shot to try to win a fabulous prize. Naturally, I missed all of my shots.

At another booth, one of the prizes competitors could win was a small Chris Brown poster (alas, there was no Katy Perry poster), but no one in my group felt like throwing darts at balloons — Chris Brown would have made a better target anyway. Instead, we bought a bucket of plastic rings for $5 and tried to toss them onto the necks of glass bottles. The ring toss prizes included a bike and a variety of cheap-looking, unlicensed NFL jerseys. I, of course, had my eye on winning a red Michael Crabtree 49ers jersey, but was never able to land a ring around a bottle — and I’m pretty sure no one else had done so, either; the game is just about impossible. Had I won the ring toss, I was also considering getting a Dallas Cowboys jersey — I needed a rag to clean my toilet with, after all.

By the end of the night, my group had won several prizes, including a giant plush banana, three stuffed tigers and a small pink dolphin. I myself came away from the carnival sneezing out brown gunk from the dusty parking area and a stomach ache from the food — I didn’t even get on the rides. More importantly, I had turned what could have been a huge disappointment — not going to San Antonio — into a fun-filled night with people I care about, all without leaving town. Maybe that was the real prize.

I’d settle for a Katy Perry poster, though.

Andy Comer is the slot editor and a columnist for The Monitor. Contact him at acomer@themonitor.com.