nothin At Lesser-Noticed Fest, Gravity Defied | New Haven Independent

At Lesser-Noticed Fest, Gravity Defied

Not far from the downtown Arts & Ideas festival, Augustin Zununiga and his daughter jumped to the moon” at a parallel gathering — a Long Wharf carnival — with a different vibe and a whole different crowd.

Melissa Bailey Photo

Zununiga (pictured above) and his daughter Bridget showed up Sunday for the final night of the Coleman Brothers traveling carnival, which stops at the parking lot of Sports Haven on Long Wharf every summer. The carnival ran for the past two weeks, overlapping in time with the higher-profile downtown International Festival of Arts & Ideas. Crowds streamed to the cotton candy stands and 18 portable amusement rides, which ranged from tame to terrifying.

Click on the play arrow above for some video highlights.

Zununiga, a roofer, began his day playing pickup soccer with some friends on Kimberly Avenue. He ended his day with his family at the Euro Bungy, a $5‑a-pop chance to jump on a trampoline with the help of mighty bungee cords.

First he watched his daughter, Bridget, who’s 5, rise into the sky around 11 p.m. under a large, full moon. She bounced up and down with trepidation.

Arriba! Arriba!” cheered Zununiga. Still decked out in his soccer outfit, he sounded like an exuberant sideline coach.

Throw a flip!” he urged. Higher! Higher!”

Up to the moon!” called out the ride operator, Charles Chick” Jacobus.

Jacobus, chuckling at Dad’s enthusiasm, suggested that Zununiga should get in the harness and show her how it’s done.”

Zununiga gladly took him up on the offer. Jacobus hooked him in, grabbed one side of the bungee cord, and pulled it down with his full body weight. Jacobus slammed himself down onto the trampoline, flinging Zununiga into the sky.

Amid some words of caution from his wife (cuídate!) and cheers from his friends, who were filming him with cell phones, Zununiga turned two graceful somersaults in a single up-and-down trip.

He pronounced himself wiped out from the five-minute episode: My legs!”

Elsewhere at the carnival, Edgeo Orellana (pictured) braved seven rides by himself as his dad and sister looked on.

Edgeo’s favorite ride was the Starship Exodus, the latest incarnation of the 1980s invention, the Gravitron. This involves climbing into a big cylinder and getting pushed back against the wall as it spins. Inside, people shimmy up the walls and try to throw dance moves before the powerful centripetal force pulls back their limbs.

Being inside felt like no gravity at all,” Edgeo said. You’re just flying around like you’re in space.”

After the Gravitron, he went straight to the Sizzler, which involved more spinning, this time in an orbiting teacup of sorts.

The result: Crazy dizziness,” he said with a smile.

He also braved the Thunder Bolt (pictured), in which small cars lurch side-to-side while whizzing around a dipping, circular track. With its DJ booth, the Thunder Bolt also sets the rhythm for the carnival, sending out tunes like, Macklemore’s Thrift Shop” and Drake’s Started From The Bottom Now We Here.”

Edgeo’s review: Crazy speediness.”

After hitting several rides in quick succession, Edgeo tried to get his dad to go with him on the much slower, not-so-scary Ferris wheel.

C’mon, Papi!” he urged. Enjoy with me!”

His dad, Edwin Orellana, who hails from Ecuador and now lives in New Haven, declined. So did his sister, who’s pregnant.

Edgeo passed on the Zipper (pictured), which involves voluntarily climbing into a cage and flipping head over heels.

He also turned down the Ring of Fire, a one-loop roller coaster that surprises the rider with sudden acceleration, suspenseful pauses, and dramatic changes of direction. The ride is rated a 6 out of 6 on the Coleman Brothers’ official Ride Intensity scale.

No matter how tall” he is, Edgeo declared, I’m not going to go on it!”

Shortly after 11 p.m. Sunday, workers began to pack up their giant, inflatable balloons and break down the rides. In most cases, each amusement ride folds down into a single, portable trailer, which gets hauled on the highway by a truck, according to Donny Michaels, who described himself as a Coleman carnival boss, mechanic and truck driver.” One ride, the Thunder Bolt, is so big it breaks into two separate trailers.

He said workers planned to break down all the rides Sunday night, and take them to Bridgeport, to be reassembled Monday.

1,001 Nachts.

The ride operators, and two independent food contractors, travel together for six months of the year, Michaels said. The company, Coleman Brothers, was founded in 1916 and is still run by the Coleman family. It’s based in Middletown, he said. The six-month journey takes the group through Connecticut, upper New York State, and over to Vermont. In the winter, some of the workers go down to Florida together.

In recent years, Michaels said, it’s been tough to make a living in the business.

Carnivals are a thing of the past,” he said. People now go to Six Flags and other, more impressive, permanent amusement parks. And the price of gas has soared, making those treks to upstate New York quite costly, he added.

Jacobus (at right in photo) agreed.

Jacobus said he got into carnival life as a kid. His mom was an animal trainer in the circus. His dad was a roughie,” which means he was responsible for tearing down and setting up carnival shows. He got his nickname Chick” from the man his mom used to work for.

His dad later moved on to work on the Wall of Death, a high-walled, circular motorcycle rack.

All my life I’ve been on the road,” he said.

Jacobus started out in the carnival business 25 years ago, running games of chance. He said he used to make a thousand dollars in a night running darts or ring-the-bottle. The recession has been hard on the business, he said. You gotta work twice as hard for less money.”

Now he makes $350 a week, on salary, running the trampolines. At night, he and his girlfriend, a ticket-seller named Marie, sleep in a company-issued bunk right next to the rides. The bunks are made from trailers.

They’re pretty nice if you make your bunk your bunk,” Jacobus said. He equipped his with a flat-screen TV, a computer and a microwave.

As he helped the last jumper down from the bungee cords, Jacobus declared this season his last.

I’m 52. I’ve got a lot of talents,” he said. He plans to head home to Elmira, New York, where he works as a logger in the winters.

Just as he prepared to pack up, a girl ran over to see if she could squeeze in a turn on the trampoline before the crew left town. Jacobus said yes.

Daddy!” the girl screamed. Her father was near the fried dough cart, out of earshot.

Dad came over and asked how much the ride was.

Five dollars? To jump?” he harrumphed. He left in a huff.

Have a nice night,” Jacobus called out with a weary smile.

The carnival reopens Wednesday at Bridgeport’s off-track betting arena, the Shoreline Star.

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