Myth Happens

So the part where the blasting bass music and the strobe lights of a ride on the midway gave me a migraine was not good. Everything else about the Topsfield Fair, however, including the parts where I petted a goat, held a newly hatched chick, watched a women's lumberjacking demonstration, watched a piglet race, drank almost nothing but hot spiced cider, ate a plate of pierogi and stuffed cabbage, petted the calmest and softest rabbit I have ever met, ate a cider donut, was encouraged to buy a milk goat, and rode three other midway rides and a Ferris wheel that did not contribute to the migraine, was pretty fantastic.

(The operator of the Seven Seas saw that I was wearing earplugs and commented on them. I explained that I handle loud noise badly, especially loud machine noise, but I really like rides. He said apologetically that he didn't think I was going to like his ride: it was pretty loud. I said I was still looking forward to it; earlier derspatchel and I had been appreciating his use of Dropkick Murphys' "I'm Shipping Up to Boston." So he looked dubiously at the both of us, but when the ride started, the music that kicked in was the steel-toed skirling stomp of that very song. It played all the way through. Rob sang along the entire time. I just went round and round, temporarily free of the normal bindings of gravity, and grinned.)