Kmart Fan Fun...

My parent’s house didn’t have central air conditioning.  As kids we never really missed it.  The climate in Colorado wasn’t humid so it wasn’t really a necessity.  That isn’t to say we didn’t have some summer evenings that were scorchers. 

It was on those nights the kids were treated to stale circulating air courtesy of our Kmart fans.  My parents were pretty decadent.  They splurged for three of them…one for each bedroom.  They looked just like the one pictured above.  Huge, ugly and loud all wrapped in a gorgeous turquoise metal housing. 

I still think they were actually made by Boeing. You know, the jet engine people?  They were that noisy.   I have some hearing loss.  Perhaps that Kmart fan is to blame…who knows.

The Kmart fan sparked conflict between my sister and me. We shared a room.  My sister would aim the fan toward her bed to hog the air.  I’d get torked and turned it towards my bed and hog the air back.  We’d continue the back and forth air war until it escalated to a fist fight.  Then, exhausted and hot from our hair-pulling match, we’d agree on perfect placement of the fan for optimal air for the two of us.  Isn’t that sweet?

Maybe we were a little deprived as kids because I remember we had a lot of fun with those fans.  Did you know you could talk like Darth Vader?  Dial the white plastic knob to “High” lean up against the plastic grating, breathe like the dark evil guy and say, “Luuuuke!  I am your father!” Way cool. Or maybe get a playing card, feed it through the grill and listen as it makes a cool clicking noise.

Adding even more to our entertainment value was tying long pieces of toilet paper to the grate and watching as it streamed.  Or get a craft feather, hold it up, release it and watch as it shoots back into the room.  See whose feather traveled furthest. Winner takes all.  The “Beauty salon” game was another winner for amusement.  Sit in front of the fan and watch your hair blow. 

I really did have shit for brains as a kid.  Entertained by a fan.  What the hell…

No wonder I’m weird.