I didn't wet my shorts, I swear.

There really isn't anything more Idaho than a fair. And by fair, I mean a horde of semi trucks that pull into a parking lot or vacant field, transform into various carnival rides and then charge the public an arm and a leg to ride them (sometimes, literally). Last week, I was reminded of my old stomping grounds right here in Colorado. It was a typical gorgeous evening here. I had the windows rolled down as I drove home from work. The sun was setting behind the Rockies, illuminating the orange sky. I took a deep breath. Then it hit me. That smell. That familiar smell. The mix of cotton candy, diesel fuel, cigarettes and puke. There was really only one explainable concoction. A fair. Sure enough, as I passed a wall of trees, there it was. Set up in the Twin Peaks Mall parking lot stood the Longmont Fair. It was all there. The Gravitron. The Scrambler. The Avalanche. The Monkey House. The rows and rows of booths filled with stuffed animals and toothless carnies. My heart almost ached. I thought to myself, "My daughter must experience this."

The next evening, we arrived. Forty bucks later, Berlin and I had all-access wristbands. The world was ours. We started the night off with a relaxing ride on the Ferris Wheel then quickly stirred things up with a ride on the Safari Train. With our wristbands of opportunity tightly fastened, we bounced from ride to ride without a care in the world. Suddenly, Berlin spotted the Super Slide. We got our gunny sack and began our ascent up the stairs. We climbed and climbed and climbed. Finally, we reached the top. We could see everything from up there. We stood there and took in the view. I felt proud. I was passing a bit of my heritage (perhaps unfortunate) onto the next generation. I sighed and smiled. Then, by way of a few piercing words, Berlin abolished the moment.

"Daddy, I have to pee really bad!"

FREEZE IT

Now, there really was no way for victory here. Taking the stairs back would certainly take way too long and Berlin would never be able to hold it. Taking the slide down would probably be too exciting and thus very difficult for a small child to hold her ready-to-explode bladder and thus induce gunny sack urination.

I had a decision to make. I quickly placed the gunny sack down on the slide, sat down and placed Berlin on my lap. I launched off. We flew down the slide and skidded off onto the fake grass set up below. I jumped to my feet searching for Mom. That's when I noticed the crowd of fairgoers all staring at my crotch, some giggling. Then I felt it. I looked down. Sure enough, Berlin had "let go" on the ride down, thus soaking my lap and making it look as though the excitement of the Super Slide was even too much for me, a grown, very mature man. And of course Berlin was wearing white shorts so nobody could really tell that she was, in fact, the culprit. And the few people that didn't notice my soaked lap were quickly tipped off by the laughter of my dear wife who just couldn't help but giggle and point.

We made a quick dash out of the carnival lights to our car. We got in. It was then that Berlin reminded me that I promised her some funnel cake. "Screw that" I thought to myself. "Ain't no way I'm going back in there with these peed shorts." After a little motivation by guilt from mom by way of "Steve, you promised her" I found myself back under the lights and the jeering eye of the masses. I retrieved the funnel cake and made my way back to the dark parking lot where we enjoyed the yummy goodness. We then drove home. Eventually, I laughed about it.