The balloons in the air seemed to bob to the music playing on somebody's transistor radio. I drank a cherry coke slushy and ate some of Danny's cotton candy as I was watching everybody go by.
Danny said, "Come on! Let's go on the bumper cars!"
I followed him. We loved crashing into one another in the cars. "Sunday Driver!" Danny yelled. When he got stuck in a mass of bumper cars, I drove around crazily saying that he was Chuck stuck in Manhattan traffic.
After that, my mom and Danny decided to go on a spinning cup ride. I didn't feel like it. I didn't like those kinds of machines, they made me dizzy. A short time after the ride started, my mom and Danny started yelling to stop the ride. They were both feeling sick. They were let off and walked back to me, looking a little queasy. My mom said she knew there was trouble when she saw vomit a couple of seats down from her.
We decided to go home. Chuck would probably not be awake, but we didn't want him to suspect that we didn't go to St. Patrick's.
We were all feeling a little tired on the way home. Danny and I were happy though. Chuck would work a double shift and we'd have the house to ourselves. Walking down Dahlgren Place, the air turned a bit cooler and the sticky humidity started to subside a bit. I felt almost, I guess, free. Like I could fall from the Parachute Drop and catch the wind with my arms. Maybe that's how Superman felt everytime he soared through the air. At that moment, I didn't worry about Chuck, about school bullies, or even that psycho nut, Son of Sam. A Yankee game was on later tonight. We hoped they would win against the Red Sox. We could make as much noise and go as crazy as we liked. Maybe Billy Martin would even get into a fight with the umps tonight, who knew?