I have a carnival to catch. A promise is a promise.

Yes, I’m hiking at a break-neck pace to get to Kitanning in time to visit a mall carnival with a group of folks I just met last night. I definitely had that penciled into my agenda when I was planned this hike.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not regretting my decision. If asked again right now, I’d agree with even more gusto. Honestly, I’m just stunned at how everything worked out. Sleeping bag to mall to mumblemumble ball to car ride to – unless I fail to cover the distance -- carnival. I suppose this is how coincidences work, but I don’t know that happenstance has ever embraced me so fondly before. Right back at ya, buddy.

It’s a great excuse to shoulder a meaty workload. Kitanning is no short distance, so I’ll end up AHEAD of schedule, mileage-wise. The carnival (and the company) is really a REWARD for completing such a vigorous day of hiking.

I wrote yesterday that I was going to keep myself open to any adventures that come my way. Well, one has come early and in a form I would not have expected, but it’s my DUTY more than anything to see this through.

…

Are you on to me yet? I’ll bet you are. I’m lying by omission, but I think I’ve hinted at it enough times already to escape prosecution.

Still. “I thought you were SO TIRED last night, chief?” And, “You couldn’t have slept more than a few hours.” Plus, “Brent was right, you don’t live that far from each other. You can always hang out when you get back. Why the rush?” All completely understandable questions you might have right now...

You know. And I know that you know, so is that good enough? Maybe not.

I had a great time last night; absolutely. I have never taken so quickly to a group of strangers in my life. Brent, Cal, and all the rest are great people who already feel like genuine friends. I’m interested in seeing this carnival as well. Apparently it’s been a yearly staple since they were all kids – well, YOUNGER kids, maybe – and it’ll be fun to share in a huge slice of their nostalgia for the night.

The OTHER thing, though… I’m sure I’m reading too deeply into it. Sleep deprivation has me dotting T’s and crossing I’s in confused patterns. It’s all in my head, no question.

And yet…

Look, there were moments last night. That’s all. Little hints, stray cinders of… something.

Again, almost certainly just a manifestation of my eager (desperate, if you like) imagination. It’s fooled me plenty of times in the past, that’s for sure.

But… what if? You know? It’s already been such a surprising, wonderful journey so… maybe fate is doubling-down on my behalf. Honestly, I feel that elbow nudge against my ribs, the whisper in my ear. “Eh, might be somethin’ there, buddo.” And if so, who am I to be such a poor host to destiny?

Haha. I’m getting waaayyyyyy ahead of myself. It’s a crush or, actually, I have no idea what it is. Lopsided? Mutual? Who in the heck knows? I’m just saying, I’m going to hustle like hell today, meet up with them tonight, and have a GREAT time. That’s all; that’s PLENTY.

And if, you know, anything else were to possibly begin to blossom out of that… Great. Fantastic. Amazing. Fate, I owe you a lobster dinner, first chance I get. You can even order an appetizer.

If not, again, I’ll have a great time with my new friends. Plural. I have NO EXPECTATIONS beyond that.

We’ll see. For now, I need to earn the opportunity to find out. One step at a time.

~~~

I’m seven miles in and making good time. I’ve been paralleling this little stream for a while now. There’s nothing especially unique about it, but it feels special. Out here, alone, the world is peaceful, quiet. It’s like I’ve walked into one of the nature portraits at a hotel. Nothing remarkable; most of the time you don’t even consciously notice it. But just having it there feels right. We overlook mundane beauty too often, I think, simply because we can. But if you came back to your room at night, and the portrait was gone, it would be the first thing you’d notice.

Being with people is good, too. Friends are good. I made a few last night; have I mentioned that yet? Heck, I’m going to see them again soon! That’ll be great.

But for now, I’m appreciating being inside this living canvas. You don’t find moments like this in the city or even small towns. These murals are still there, but they’re hidden behind buildings and agendas and distractions. All that stuff is fine; I’m not ready to become a hermit in a cabin on top of a mountain just yet. But there’s only so much of all that noise one can take. Civilization can wear you out. When that happens, you find yourself thinking, “Whatever happened to that portrait over the bed?” It’s out here, waiting. It’s ready when you are.

Two days on the trail and I’m trying to wax philosophical. Ha! Maybe I should save the guru prose for when I’m better qualified.

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Still, I do love this. If only I’d have noticed the painting was missing just a little earlier in life, huh? Sigh.

Ah, well. Better late than never.

~~~

11.5 miles. I’ve changed my mind. I DO have an expectation for tonight : fair food. I don’t know anything about the carnival beyond the scant details present in Brent’s proposal. What I do know is that it’s AGAINST THE LAW to operate a pop-up carnival without offering a menu of greasy, delicious cuisine. Such fare may be nutritionist nightmare fuel, but after 20 miles and a 2 or 3000 calorie deficit, an elephant ear or corn dog is going to taste DIVINE.

Trail mix and jerky just aren’t cutting it today. A craving has been growing over the last few hours, a fixation. Maybe it’s even an obsession at this point. My mind tries to reconcile each wave of hunger as a scientific study. See, for the last thirty minutes it’s been stuck on the hypothesis that the greasier the fry, the better it tastes. Next thing I know, I’m plotting out testing parameters and deciding how to solve this empirically. “Oh, but don’t forget the other variables – salt content, just as important!” It keeps sending me images of myself, standing over a row of steaming spuds. Leftmost, we begin at one extreme : completely arid. We then progress through escalating grease sums toward the rightmost contenders. This side’s contestants drip with that soggy shampoo.

I will eat them all and I will love every bite… for the advancement of science.

But seriously, why are they called “elephant ears?” Sure, they’re big, but they aren’t floppy. If your elephant ear is floppy, it needs returned to that sizzling cauldron of joy a little longer. Crispy, you need a nice, crispy ear. And for goodness sake, don’t skimp on the powdered sugar. Or brown sugar. Chocolate sauce? ALL.

Maybe elephants perspire powdered sugar. That’s where the name may come from. Powdered sugar…

Oreos are fine on their own. They are. Keep that milk-dunk away from my sandwich cookie. Yet, as soon as you wrap the little guy in dough and deep-fry him, that changes. Powdered sugar becomes essential at that point. Drizzle some chocolate, maybe even caramel. Caramel on Oreos would be amazing.

Caramel is the dark horse of dessert condiments. It doesn’t play by the rules. It’s a syrup, but refuses to neatly homogenize. You can almost taste each granule of sugar. Like cotton candy…

Cotton candy; now THERE’S an absolute necessity. I read that in some states it’s illegal to go to a fair without eating some. That’s ironic, though, because cotton candy is the greatest disappearing artist in the world of sweets. It’s a big, fluffy pink or blue cloud, like flora that might be native to Wonderland. A strip gets sheared, stacked on a little white cone, and it’s meal time. You taste it, feeling that sweet vapor trail of sugar dissolving on your tongue, and then POOF, gone. It does the crime and then disappears without a trace, dumping all the evidence onto you, the blue or pink-tongued patsy. It was the perfect crime and cotton candy remains on the lam. The spree continues next season.

…

Tonight needs to get here fast.

~~~

Brent just texted me to set up a specific rendezvous spot. The ball-busting has already begun, “… cuz it’s ok if you’re still in Butler. I get it. You had a long night, Your Honor, and I realize that at your age it can be hard to…”

You see what I put up with?

He isn’t entirely off-base. My legs have become wobbling gelatin, and not even one of the good flavors. I’ve been on a relentless stretch of incline that someone should write a sonnet about; something immortalizing the value of human suffering. Brutal.

We’ve worked out a pick-up spot. It’ll finish the day with around 21 miles hiked, one more than I’d anticipated. But really, what’s another mile of mini-Everest here considering what awaits at the summit?

And who.

I’m onto snow cones now. All those fried delicacies were fine earlier in the day, but now I’m craving frigid foods. A tiny Dixie Cup cone of sweetened ice isn’t going to cut it, though. I’m going to empty out a garbage can and hold it out to the vendor. “Ice me, please.” Flavor? All flavors; tonight is about equal opportunity gluttony.

I realize I’m going to look like an absolute fool until this raging appetite is sated. Maybe a venerated carny can give me some pointers on courting a woman with one’s face slathered in nacho cheese.

Again, just to reiterate : no expectations. But if she’s waiting in the car with a bag of kettle corn and a milk shake, I might skip right to the proposal.

When you know, you know.

~~~

Last stop before I break trail again. Bladder business, but also my phone’s signal is verging on collapse, and Brent was texting me. He claimed to be driving past the carnival and told me about the new rides available this year. You know, all the budget-store versions of the better rides at real amusement parks we remember from our childhoods.

“They must’ve gotten a really good deal on these ones."

“Why’s that?”

“No reason, really. Just… you’re OLD, right? So you probably have a pretty good life insurance policy? Remind me, does ‘ride operator pushing the wrong button and launching me into space’ fall under Force Majeure or not. Just asking for a friend.”

“Hilarious.”

“I’m kidding. Obviously. There’s no way they’ll open that ride up again with what just happened to all those elementary kids… wait. Oh! I take that back. Open for business, and the line’s short. Hurry up before it gets crowded!”

I’m so glad I dawdled. Where would I be without those encouraging observations?

“Take a whirl without me; let me know how it is.”

“Oh, come on. What kind of host would I be if I popped the cork before the guest of honor arrived? Don’t worry, though, I got you a wrist band. We’ll be riding ALL NIGHT.”

No choice, I had to laugh.

“Gah, not sure I’ll be able to make it after all, Brent. This friendly bear just invited me to dinner.”

“Not gonna fly. The gang’s too excited. We’d track that bear down and cut you out of his guts if we had to. Stitch what’s left undigested back together. Oh, and Cal said to bring your back-up stomach; you two have a lot of work to do. Hey, maybe you can borrow Mr. Bear’s! Serendipitous!”

My stomach snagged on “The gang’s too excited.” Fluttering has commenced.

Speaking of, I need to get a move on. Just a sliver left but if I don’t hurry, I’ll be late. Chili dogs wait for no one.

You can expect to hear all about my fair experience tomorrow, assuming I don’t glut myself into the emergency room. Or, you know, it turns out Brent isn’t exaggerating about the rides. Who knows? Maybe I’ll end up getting slingshot to Rhode Island.

Sheesh, my stomach is really going kinetic, and it isn’t from hunger this time. It feels like a school of fish is practicing Krav Maga with my stomach lining. No sparring before dinner; we’ve talked about this!

Wish me luck. No expectations but… please, wish me luck.