If you need a lift, I have the ride for you

OK. Who on the fair board has connections with Mountain High?

For those of you who haven’t seen it, the fair has a new

high-towering ride that looks like a ski lift. It was cool enough to

catch the attention of my almost 4-year-old, and I was mean enough

not to let him go on it because I thought he was too little. This was

opening day, before the Adrenaline Drop and Booster injuries.

Oh yeah, I paid for that for the next 10 minutes in pouting and

tears, but hey, there was no way I was going to let a toddler -- all

hopped-up on ice cream and funnel cakes -- get on a ride 20 feet in

the air with nothing but a lap bar over him.

I decided to check it out for myself, so City Editor James Meier

and I went over to the fair on Wednesday at noon.

We needed four tickets to ride one-way ($3) and had to be taller

than 48 inches or accompanied by an adult. Covered there.

We had to wait for the ride to open because the operators were not

yet finished placing warning signs on the back of each chair that

told riders not to throw anything from the ride. A few minutes later,

a fellow carnival worker came walking up with two signs in his hand.

They were falling off the chairs, almost hitting people.

Finally, it was time to ride. We stepped into the clearly marked

boxes on the ground and waited for the chair to sweep us off our

feet, but halfway through our climb the lift stopped. We swayed in

the breeze for a good minute before the ride started up again. Maybe

they were reapplying one of the falling signs, I thought.

We slowly crept over asphalt, booths, some trees, more asphalt and

booths and trees, while looking over the scenic landscape. I could

see the rising towers of the South Coast Metro district, and we got a

great view of the newly refurbished City Hall. (While it is archaic

and outdated, it embodies that funky vibe that is Costa Mesa. It

looks so crisp now.)

There was also a clean, cool breeze that offered a great contrast

to the scorching sun. As I turned around to see the view behind me, I

noticed the 6-inch gaping hole between the back of the chair and the

seat of the chair. I wasn’t worried about slipping through, because

it would take a much bigger hole to drop my posterior.

Sometimes, it’s good to have a “voluptuous” rear end.

I decided to see how far I could slide under the bar before it

caught me. I didn’t even get to my waist when James stopped me.

“Don’t do that,” he said in an anxious but authoritative tone.

He’ll make a great dad one day. (No, his dog Bailey doesn’t count.)

We were high above the fair, with a bird’s eye view of the

Australian Battered Potato Booth and the “carnie” camp in the

Arlington Theater. I glanced at the sturdy beams that held the thick

cables in place and felt comforted ... until I remembered they had

gone up in less than a week’s time. It didn’t help that James kept

saying:

“Just think of how much it would hurt if we fell.”

“We’d probably break our necks.”

“Do you think it would hurt more if we landed in the trees or on

the asphalt?”

Just as we were reaching the end of the line, the ride stopped

again. Across from us were two young kids riding by themselves,

huddled pretty close together. They were small enough that a cheek or

two could have fallen through the cracks. (No pun intended, I swear.)

“How old are you?” we shouted to them.

The boy was 10, the girl was 8.

“Are you scared?”

“A little nervous,” the girl answered.

“I’m totally freaked,” the 10-year-old boy said.

“Hang in there kiddo.”

Finally, the lift started moving again, and our joy ride was over.

I had to know why the ride kept stopping.

“For emergencies,” the operator told me.

OK. We stopped twice on a one-way trip. What emergency happened in

those 15 minutes?

“No, not like that, for like senior citizens and people who can’t

hop on the chairs as easily,” the operator said.

Oh those kinds of “emergencies.” Sheesh. With all the injuries

getting ink at the fair, I don’t think the guy should be throwing

around the word “emergency” so easily.

All in all, the ride was cool. Boring, but cool.

It offered a scenic, relaxing change from pounding the pavement,

and I’m sure it’s even better at night.

I still stand by my decision not to let my toddler on it. Parental

supervision or not, it’s simply not secure enough for a skinny,

wiggly little kid.

And let’s hope the ski lift is not the subject of the next press

conference at the fair.

* LOLITA HARPER writes columns Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays and

covers culture and the arts. She may be reached at (949) 574-4275 or

by e-mail at [email protected].