Life was easier back when everything I ate went to my feet.
Like a moth to a flame, I’m drawn to the fair – and not only as an innocent bystander. I’ve told stories on stage, answered questions about nature, helped presenters, served as a superintendent, pushed food, given away excellent yardsticks, acted as an emcee, represented organizations, been a vendor, shown animals, supported fundraising, and juggled flaming chainsaws. No, wait, that wasn’t me juggling the flaming chainsaws. That was Lefty. Sorry.
Fair foods tickle my innards. Not much tastes just like chicken. My depth of cash was never at a proper level to allow me to enjoy everything that needed enjoying, but I’d eat enough at the fair to live on through the winter.
Over 99.99% of people admit to coming to the fair for the food. That’s everybody except your Uncle Elmer, and you know how he lies. Grease, sugar and deep-fried calories on-a-stick are all good. Some food is so good, people are willing to eat it with one of their toes in the fire.
Even though it’s a banquet on-a-stick, it’s hard to eat a corn dog any other way than awkwardly. Someone sells dental floss next door to the cotton candy.
I walked with a serious eater. He had a bottle of Pepto-Bismol in one hand and a roll of Tums in the other. A bevy of seductive attractions greeted us. Knock over stacked milk bottles with a ball and win a giant teddy bear to sell for 75 cents at a garage sale. Mimes plied their trade. It was the best of mimes. It was the worst of mimes. A guy guessed my wait for $1. He got it right – it was 10 minutes.
“See you around” is something said by a rider of a merry-go-round. The kids on a merry-go-round never stop horsing around.
I learned early in life, after watching a friend upchuck everything he’d ever eaten, that some rides are better watched than ridden. The friend wasn’t unhappy about the experience. It gave him cargo space to carry more food. Suddenly, he had room for a giant turkey leg and a couple of fried Twinkies on-a-stick.
There’s an emotional roller coaster. Bumper car accidents aren’t flaws but are features. On senior citizen day, they break out the rocking chair ride.
I wanted to put a handful of bolts in my pocket. When I got on a terrifying ride, I’d pull them from my pocket and say to a fellow rider, “These were on your seat. Do you think we should tell anyone?”
Photo by Al Batt
I could tell who the chief breadwinner was in a family by the ribbons. A taxidermist, specializing in vegetables, made a coat out of hamster skins. He wore it to the fair and couldn’t keep it off the Ferris wheel. I thought of entering a birdhouse I’d made, but I have a faulty hammer. It hits an inch or two to the right.
I didn’t look at the exotic animals. I once owned chickens with no feathers on their necks. What could top that? One year, I trained snapping turtles for a reptile exhibit. It was a turtle disaster.
Machinery Hill used to be Disneyland for farmers. No more. Farms got bigger as Machinery Hill became smaller.
The hide-and-seek tournament was canceled. Good players are hard to find.
I listened to vendors, especially those who offered a notebook as swag in exchange for my ear. I’m a notebook person.
Forbidden foods in portable forms proliferate. Many are foods that serve me best when I don’t eat them. I avoided the foot-long hot dog and the foot-wide hot dog, but succumbed to the sirens of popcorn. I don’t recall a time that a box of popcorn had treated me so kindly.
I eat little at a fair today.
It saves me money but leads to conversations like this: “How are you doing?” asked a friend, a demolition derby entrant.
“I’ve been better, but it cost more.”
There were six cars in his demolition derby heat. “How did you do?” I asked. He said, “Well, it took five of them to beat me.”
I’ll keep going to the county fair.
Because one day, there will be an all-electric vehicles demolition derby.
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