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I remember that summer session quite vividly, as Shane and I went to the county fair for the entire week. I love carnival and amusement park rides, but what I love even more is seeing the blown, chunky aftermath of someone lacking the gastrointestinal fortitude to hold down their cookies on those rides.



We rode pretty much every ride we could get ourselves into. We were kids, we didn't need a specific reason, other than it was summer, and we had an obscene amount of money that we were able to spend on stuff. I burned most of mine on tickets and Garbage Pail Kids cards. Of the tickets, what we enjoyed the most were the bumper cars, the zipper, the swinging log ride, and The Gravitron.



For the unenlightened, it's the spaceship looking ride that spins really fast while the operator plays loud 80's hair metal. We enjoyed this ride for the millionth time that particular day. Retrospectively, it's a shame we didn't have the internet back then like we do today, I guarangoddamntee you that it would have been on youtube.



We got on and chose our pads, anticipating the slow acceleration, and the eventual rapid gravitational forces that kept calling us back one more time. Eventually, we were dealt a royal flush.



The Gravitron was already in full throttle by the time I had noticed what was about to happen. I turned my head against the directional pull, and saw a pale, sweating kid who was clearly in the throes of discomfort. To what degree, that was pretty apparent. He already had the dry swallows.



I turned my attention to Shane and shouted over the high-pitched wailing of Steven Tyler, "l think he's gonna puke."



Thankfully, it didn't require an explanation, because he already had his gaze locked where it needed to be. Pretty soon, the dry swallowing gave way to ragged gasping, along with abdominal contractions.



Finally, The Puker took a deep breath, and nature took its course. A small geyser of vomit momentarily held its place in front of him before covering his face, seeping into the frame of The Gravitron.



Quickly, he turned his head and puked some more. A lot more. The projectile wave of vomit seemed to leap from one person to the next, covering 3 or 4 other people. While we were amazed that the other passengers hadn't yet followed in hot pursuit, what was even more amazing was that the stream of puke seemed to skip like a stone. Almost a minute went by when the operator finally saw what was going on and mouthed "Oh shit!"



The ride came to a fairly quick halt, and our pods came back down. He was still puking, while the people that were ill-positioned in his path were (for the moist part) drenched in vomit. Since both of us were dry, we left, but eagerly waited outside of the ride in case there was more to be seen. We weren't disappointed.



Eventually, The Puker and one of his friends were the last to get out of The Gravitron. As he walked out, he made his way to the shitty aluminum railing, leaned over, and puked some more. I'm not sure how big his stomach was, but if I had to make a guess, I'd say it was analogous to an unfillable void. Simply put, he was not done spewing.



Understandably disoriented, his friend miscalculated his step, bumped into The Puker, which in turn, knocked over the unanchored railing. From there, his friend tripped into said railing, while rotating a half-pirouette. After his ankle had locked, he tried valiantly to keep his balance. None of this worked in his favor, and he failed his spot check, and landed face-first into a sizeable puddle of vomit.



As luck would have it, we were able to experience the Schadenfreude delights 3 more times that week.