The circus is in town.
OK, so it's not the circus I worked for, and it's not the one where I met Dear Butcher, but it is a one ring show setting up on school property. (Complaints are already flwoing in. "The trucks came at 2 in the morning, and they banged a lot." "I thought it was just going to be a little kiddie circus, not a real circus with trucks and everything." Just wait until the 7:30 pm shows start.)
Went down there this morning to watch them set the tent -- not much was going on.
Lots of memories, but I have to say, this one doesn't smell right. The diesels weren't idling, and there was no smell of either horses or elephants. Once the rancid popcorn oil gets warm, it will probably smell more like it should.
This is so weird, to be forty, looking through a chain link fence at my grubby yet exciting self at twenty-three.
Weirder still perhaps is that Dear Butcher went down to spectate wearing a button down shirt and a tie.