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The Jax Files: With Tom Jackson in Pasco
Pasco County News | Breaking News

Memories Of Love, Actually, On The Midway

Posted Feb 18, 2009 by Tom Jackson

Updated Feb 18, 2009 at 10:52 PM

OK.  True, but somewhat regrettable, ultimately redemptive, story, about corn dogs, the Scrambler, a debutante and me, and how love does, indeed, conquer all.

It’s late March 1978.  The Florida State Fair has strayed into springtime and I am on my third, possibly fourth night out with the charming Debra Denise Farr, recent college graduate and former Krewe of Venus debutante.  Recently promoted to a titled position in the sports department of the late, lamented Tampa Times—with $15 a week more in my paycheck to boot—I am full of swagger, ambition and she-may-be-the-one passion.

I am also recently full of a corn dog, slathered in mustard, and most of a soda-fountain Coke when we clamber into this oversized egg-beater of a ride designed to exert NASA-quality G-forces on its riders, the upshot of which is that it shoves even bashful couples into tight, potentially compromising balls of friendliness.  Good times.  Except for this:

I hadn’t counted on the combination of deep-fried coating, undisclosed meat ingredients, semi-flat soda and furious spinning to produce an intense bout of vertigo.  But it did.  White-faced and clammy, I promptly produced evidence of same in a nearby hedge, emptying the contents of my stomach in a series of violent, spectacular heaves.

To her immense credit, this Krewe of Venus debutante did not flee for the exit turnstiles.  For under Deb the deb’s calm, sophisticated demeanor beat the steely heart of a former Delta Gamma song leader, the veteran of several Raunchy Ranch weekends, the unofficial slogan of which—if I understand correctly—is “the party ain’t over ‘til the pledge master wretches.”  So she stayed, produced breath-fresheners, applied a damp paper towel and helped coax blood and color back into my extremities.

Four months later, late on a muggy July afternoon, we were married.  Do the math; it’s nearly 31 years ago.  A gal like that, you don’t let get away.

Still, I’m not tempting fate.  Corn dogs—what we used to call “pronto pups”—are off my list.  So are the Scrambler and its various manifestations that crouch, passenger compartments yawning, beckoning, on midways just like the one at the Pasco County Fair.  Some memories you don’t want to attempt to recreate.
 

Reader Comments

Por (Lynn - Connecticut Personal Injury Lawyer) on April 07, 2009 (Suggest removal)

I totally Agree with u,i really appreciate your posting,such a nice thinking.thanks for giving us such a nice information.

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