Clowning around at the carnival

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Just like anyone else bored enough to check their MavZone emails, news of a “Mavs After Dark Carnival Night” excited me to the core.

Memories of bright LED lights contrasting with the crisp evening air, iconic rides like the Ferris Wheel, and plenty of space to enjoy myself rushed into my memory. I knew I had to go.

After a long five days of anticipation, I became surprisingly ecstatic to finally attend a proper college event. Not only this, but the first real event in general since the pandemic had begun.

So as the clock struck eight, my friend and I walked on our way to the carnival, naive of the boulder of disappointment we were about to be struck by.

It quickly became clear there was no outdoor carnival, and that it was in fact inside, not the entire gymnasium, but only half of it. As soon as I walked into the “carnival” I felt barraged with suppressed memories of high school homecoming events and awkward middle school dances.

I scanned the room in a fell swoop, noticed the giant lines, disorganized carnival games bleeding into one another, and masses of people with their masks off within a foot of each other. Admittedly, the raffle prizes looked really cool. Who wouldn’t want a new TV or a record player?

It wasn’t long before the flight portion of my fight-or-flight instinct kicked in and I b-lined for the door. Yet my friend convinced me to stay for the free food and the potential of winning prizes.

After what felt like an eternity of 15-minute breaks between raffles, my suspicion was confirmed: I didn’t win. What this did mean, however, is that the raffle was over and I could go back home.

At the end of the night, I have to acknowledge the effort to keep Mavs safe and on-campus; yet, the evident rush, poor weather, and the cesspool of COVID-19 genuinely drove me to consider going to an infamous Colorado Mesa University (CMU) dessert party for the first time.