Now is it just me? Or do traveling carnivals the world over seem to have some sort of pact in which they compete to find the most derelict, seedy spots to throw down their temporary empire...
And although it took us over an hour on various modes of transportation to finally reach this little corner of Bangkok heaven, all was forgiven upon arrival. The sheer magnitude of class oozing from SGAT*'s radioactive pores blinded us, captivated us and eventually, destroyed us.
"What constitutes a good time at a carnival?" - you, forced to ask me
"Many a thing, in fact!" - me, pleased with the opening
Could it be the sweet smell of McDonald's (clearly in cahoots with SGAT) wafting through the park(ing lot) on a sticky, hot May evening?
Or could it be when four members of your party feign excuses and then actually leave the park after the pleasant sensory experience** that is "The Breakdance"?
Or is it the overwhelming urge to need an oversized styrofoam-stuffed animal to hold on your hip as you strut nonchalantly*** through the park?
Or is there just a certain magic to be found in among the jerky mechanics, the sleaze, the blinking lights, the stickiness, the tinny music, the rows of hard(won) stuffed animals, the gum stuck to the ground, the clang of the winning bell, the beer left in the bottle, the wiping of sweat, hands wrapped around metal, chugging and churning, whizzing, squeals of delight fading in and out, the beautiful, brilliant cheapness of it all.
Yes, it's all of that.
But mostly just this.
*I'm doin' it
***'What, this? Yeah, I won it, whateva'
Actual footnote: Breakdance picture from thailandoutlook.tv