Lights, prizes, colors, cheers from the winners, the allure of it all. It’s overwhelming and exhilarating all at the same time. Booth operators, skilled at convincing people to part with their hard-earned money for the chance to win dirty stuffed animals or goldfish that will die in a week. You, the reader, might think that I have a great dislike for these booths at carnivals, when, it’s quite the opposite. I love them.
“It’s just luck”
“There is no skill”
“It’s a waste of money”
“You don’t need it”
I’ve heard all of these and more, every time I come across the ring-toss or the goldfish game. The odds of winning are slim, but the promise of winning is too big to ignore. For an adrenaline junkie who hates the feeling of losing control, these games are just what makes me feel alive. The risk, walking away with my wallet a bit lighter. The reward, the rush of adrenaline that comes with having beat the system, winning something that is made to not be won. In my humble opinion, it’s totally worth it.
In addition to the rush that you get when playing the game, that prize, the dirty stuffed giraffe that you could get from the dollar store for 75% less than you paid to play the game, it gets a new life. It is no longer a dirty stuffed dinosaur that has travelled across the country, from town to town, collecting dirt. Its ephemera. It evokes memories that nothing else could.
So, when I see the booths all aglow, flashing, their siren song calling me to open my wallet, whispering “take a chance”, I listen. I throw the dented and dirty ping-pong ball, knowing that it is dented and dirty from the hundreds of people who just like me, spent their money on the off chance that they get lucky. I hope. The lights flash and I take a breath. I choose a random spot and ready my throw. I throw and the familiar knot in my stomach grows. That small, controlled rush of adrenaline appears just as that little plastic ball flies, filled with nothing but my hopes. And my breath catches as it falls right in-between two plastic bowls filled with colored tissue paper. And it feels fantastic. So, I do it again. And again. And again. And with each throw of those little plastic balls, that seed of excitement grows. It grows as the number of balls lessens and with it, the chance of winning something. It’s fantastic. The most incredible feeling. When my fingers scrape the bottom of the bucket, and I look down, seeing that there is only one ball left, that’s the best part. I grab that ball, filled with adrenaline, and chuck it. It soars and falls, missing. The rush is crazy. I’ve lost. My money is gone, and yet, I feel amazing.
