\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0Years ago, as a boy about 10, I became mesmerized watching the \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Tilt-a-Whirl” at a carnival camped near Independence Street.
\n\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 Most fascinating was the girls’ reactions as they emerged from the ride and the operator pulled a lever that released a blast of air, uplifting their skirts.
\n\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 That attracted a crowd almost 100 percent male, waiting to see which female would hop on the ride and what her attributes would be when unwittingly made public.<\/p>\n
\n\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 I soon realized that I was the youngest of the voyeurs. My interest was mainly in the reaction of the girls, certainly not in \u00e2\u20ac\u0153country matters.” I learned later that I had set my sights in the wrong direction, like going to a beach and looking into the wrong end of my binoculars.
\n\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 I never saw this, but was told, that the boyfriend of a \u00e2\u20ac\u0153victim” tried to punch out the carnival ride operator. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I don’t like people looking at muh wommun that way,” he was supposed to have said.
\n\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 Eventually I survived my teens, went through the Playboy Magazine stage, dated, and did other things men do. But in the late O40s, I was naive. Though something seemed intrinsically wrong with blowing air up a girl’s skirt, I didn’t know exactly what.
\n\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 Being raised in this mid-Victorian community that sometimes equated matters of the flesh with evil, I nevertheless questioned the edict that males were NEVER to look at females’ legs. You mean never, not even if you’re married to her?
\n\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 The \u00e2\u20ac\u0153what” that I didn’t exactly know became clear after puberty and while attending Immaculate Conception School. One afternoon the teacher decided to conduct a fire drill. I.C. had standard exterior metal see-through fire escapes. To make sure everything was \u00e2\u20ac\u0153proper,” our homeroom teacher, Sister Mary Iliff, said, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Okay, all you boys go down first, then the girls.”
\n\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 We boys thought about it, but not for long, and during the intervening seconds, one of us needed to muzzle Charles, the class’ moral compass, who insisted we boys should descend last instead of first.
\n\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 Once we boys were on the ground, we boys wondered, now what? \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Now the girls come down.” Though there was hesitation on the part of the coeds, Sister’s emphatic voice brooked no disobedience or dithering. Down came a group of girls, in their store-bought uniforms, inching their way down the fire escape and gripping their calves to deny any leering boy even a small peek. We wondered, Why did Sister sent us down this way? The teacher realized the error too late, decided to \u00e2\u20ac\u0153get it right this time,” and immediately ordered the girls to go up first. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153But sister . . .” \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Don’t argue!” Because of her insistence, the girls made their way back up the fire escape, performing a funny little cover-everything pigeon-walk, with the boys looking skyward to make sure the girls got there safely.
\n\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 Things were more puritanical in those days. The carny’s complimentary air supply usually revealed not much more than the girls’ knees, as girls wore fluffy petticoats in those days. Today’s girls dress more boldly, the navel displayed prominently, skirts shorter, low-slung jeans and tattoos w-a-y too far down the spine.
\n\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 Once, when approaching puberty and fascinated by s-e-x, I would stop at a gas station on Grand and chat with the owner, a newlywed. Responding to one of my questions, he explained that a woman could appear downtown in very short shorts or even in a skimpier bathing suit at the beach and scarcely draw a male glance. But a girl in a long dress in a gust of wind that raises it only a few inches suddenly is attention-getting. He was right.
\n\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 Recently, at the fitness center, a well-endowed teenage girl got summoned from the pool, and, soaking wet, she appeared in the lobby and immediately turned heads.
\n\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 One young man stared, which led her to ask, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153What are you looking at?” The boy answered, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Well, you’re wearing a bathing suit.” She replied, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I’m swimming. Can’t you tell?”
\n\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 The exchange ended there. The boy walked off, embarrassed for lack of a comeback. I mentally supplied what his next words would have or should have been: \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I can see that you’ve been swimming, but you’re not in the pool now.” Therefore, it matters less how a female is wrapped than where she appears. At Storrie Lake or back in the pool, she would have fit right in. But her dripping suit in a common area was, well, just different. Location is everything.
\n\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 Back at the carnival, the increasing crowds around the ride must have tipped off several would-be riders, with mixed results. Some shunned the rides and labeled the peek-a-boo artists \u00e2\u20ac\u0153animals.” A couple of girls, loving the attention, took the same ride several times and effected appropriately shocked and offended reactions with each blast.
\n\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 And as for the fellow who expressed his resentment over having his wommun being viewed lasciviously by dozens of young men and a 10-year-old boy, he must have made his point.
\n\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 The next day the air-man was gone and the crowds quickly dissipated.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0Years ago, as a boy about 10, I became mesmerized watching the \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Tilt-a-Whirl” at a carnival camped near Independence Street. \u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 Most fascinating was the girls’ reactions as they emerged from the ride and the operator pulled a lever that released a blast of air, uplifting their skirts. \u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 That attracted a crowd almost 100 […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[2],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/rezio.net\/woa\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/126"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/rezio.net\/woa\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/rezio.net\/woa\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/rezio.net\/woa\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/rezio.net\/woa\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=126"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/rezio.net\/woa\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/126\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/rezio.net\/woa\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=126"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/rezio.net\/woa\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=126"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/rezio.net\/woa\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=126"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}