The perks of poor planning
This resulted in my finding what must be the crummiest little fair ever. The rides were creaky and inexplicably painted with various and most certainly unlicensed images of celebrities, many of which were minimally dressed.
The entire area was swarming with children which made the choice of imagery that much more inappropriate. I quickly realized that my immunity to sudden changes in gravity and endless spinning had been greatly reduced in the years since I last attempted a carnival. The bumper cars proved far less unpleasant although I spent the majority of the time thwarting the attempts of small children to crash into me, much to their dismay.
Finding my way across town to the correct location proved far easier than I had expected as Liverpool is in fact covers a very small geographic area. Riding about in the blazing sun guided by a fellow in far better shape than I am proved almost as vomit inducing as the earlier rides had. Luckily I was several pints into the day, which improved my mood as much as it impaired my cycling abilities.
At the conclusion of our 15km ride about town I was in dire need of a few more pints and some air conditioning, so I headed over to sample some of the local micro brews recommended by our tour guide. My inordinately bad sense of direction again caused me to become horribly lost. Through some insane twist of fate I happened upon a very long and very scantily clad parade composed of gyrating young ladies and absurdly loud music which most closely resembled a tribute to the Beatles played by a drunken marching band. I thoroughly encourage anyone with a week to lose to likewise become lost in Liverpool.