2008-08 The Fair

“I want fried food!”

Carnival rides are one of the draws to the county fair. That and the food. Some people can really go for an elephant ear. For us, I think the main motivation for going was just a day out of the house. Sure the baby animals are cute, but I really don’t care how many ribbons a cow has won. That’s great for the cow, but I’m a city kid. I did get a kick out of some of the “collections.” Did you know you could get a blue ribbon for “collections?” There was an entire building filled with them: Pez dispensers, Cookie Monsters, flag-themed guitars, and my favorite – toy cars. Next year I may drop off the kids’ toy box to see what I, I’m sorry, they win. Honestly, there was a shelf with about thirty toys from the movie Cars. They weren’t hand-painted, or displayed significantly. They were just taken out of the package, played with presumably, and stacked on a shelf. Then presented with a ribbon.

I don’t care for the rides. Kim can take them or leave them. We did want to put the boys on a couple though. You know, to provide them with wonderful memories from their childhood, we’re thoughtful that way. In preparation for the day out I went to the bank for some cash. Bear in mind I almost never carry cash, so whenever I take out a pile it seems like a fortune. I then promptly gave to the lady in the little ticket booth. I was tempted not to. I almost turned and walked away, but Kim gave me a look. I wasn’t hesitant about parting with the dough, but I couldn’t breathe. The gal in the ticket booth must have been smoking nonstop for about six months to produce that much odor. It was absolutely incredible. I grew up in a house of smokers and I was physically rebuffed by the cloud seeping through the window. Still, we needed the tickets so I held my breath.

Poor Jack is too young for most of the rides, but we found a couple he go on if a parent came along. That made them even more astoundingly expensive. For the most part they were about three bucks a pop. So when you throw Lucas, Jack and Kim on it’s nine dollars to ride the Jalopy Junction, and it only last about two minutes. A rip-off, to be blunt. But the memories last a lifetime. I guess.

I didn’t ride. My limitations are many and varied. But I am familiar with most and don’t usually venture too near the borders. One of my handicaps is my stomach. Despite an advanced age, a life-long disdain for serious exercise and an affinity for beer I can still claim to be height/weight proportional. The general shape of my tummy is not at issue. Well unless you ask Kim, then she’ll say I should exercise. Nag, nag, nag. The inner workings of my stomach do come into play though. It is weak. There is no doubt about it. I could get sick doing the twist. That is why I don’t go on carnival rides. I don’t like them. I have never actually vomited because of one, but that’s because I’m not foolish enough to try. It really isn’t the promised heaving that keeps me away; I just know how awful I’d feel.

I do like the food, though. More precisely the Moo-wich. There’s a booth there run by the Dairy Ladies, or something like that. Actually, it’s not even a booth, they’re established enough to have a building. They sell ice-cream. Hard ice-cream, soft-serve, sundaes, or my favorite, the Moo-wich. It’s two homemade chocolate chip cookies surrounding a big ol’ gop of vanilla ice-cream. The whole thing is shoved into a zip-lock bag and re-frozen giving a nice homemade, non-corporate feel to it. It’s wonderful. I could be even better if I could withhold eating it long enough to let the ice cream soften. Never. They’re a bit too big, but that doesn’t stop me. I love them, and will pay the price of admission gladly just to buy one each year.

Of course we bought the boys a cone too, which I enjoyed for the photo possibilities. Jack takes after me and can really do a job on a cone. Sadly he did drop his on the ground – which is a classic. No worries for him, he got to finish Lucas’, but I blurred the photo and still haven’t gotten over it.

As we stood near the Dairy Ladies building eating and dropping our snacks I overheard one of my new favorite quotes. “I don’t want ice-cream. I want fried food.” I didn’t see who said it, but based on the voice I visualized her as a youngish, chain-smoking grandmother with the general build of a heroine addict. I could be wrong. But she definitely had a husky voice, not the sultry Lauren Bacall/Kathleen Turner type, more of the two packs-a-day gravelly sort. I’m pretty sure I pictured her the way I did because she sounded like such a crab, especially the first sentence. It sounded like she was yelling at her kids or grandkids not to badger her about getting some ice-cream. Then, as I realized how much I appreciated what she said, I realized she was just being honest. She was a devotee of the deep fat fryer. She was there for the elephant ears.

Lucas and I ended up going to the fair twice. The first was the family outing, the second one was just for Lucas. I had read that there would be a monster truck event and I asked Lucas if he would want to go. I knew the answer, of course. So I have only myself to blame. I could have withheld the information, but why deprive your child of something you know they’ll enjoy? Well, the effects of drugs and sugar are two good reasons. Clearly he’s too young for drugs (the illegal type – others medicate their children, but we’re abstaining on that) and sugar is something we dole out sparingly. Except at the fair, of course.

I had heard that there was a very good chance of some irreparable hearing damage so I went to Hardware Sales for some ear plugs, plus I borrowed a set of the over-the-ear type so Lucas would be doubly protected. The rumors were true, those trucks are incredibly loud. Ear plugs aside it was impossible to talk.

We invited Jon Sims and his son Xander along. We also called Uncle Dave. At first he didn’t really want to go. He thought he was being invited to be the token red neck, but when I told him Lucas wanted him to come, he was all for it.

I had my misgivings about going to a monster truck show. I rank them right down there with tractor pulls and swamp buggy races. The domain of southerners and other white trash. I own no belt buckles, and certainly none large enough to hide my Tevas. The odd thing was though, the closer we got to the day the more I found myself looking forward to it. And not just for Lucas’ sake. I don’t know why. Perhaps because I’d be so far out of my element or maybe because they are so damn cool.

That’s right, they are. It was fabulous! Maybe my year living in a trailer park has paid dividends, because I enjoyed the hell out of the show. It did get repetitive – they can only do so much on such a small course. But if you were to throw in a couple of races and a few more cars getting run over and it would have been great. As it was, it was very enjoyable. The power of the trucks is amazing, and it is exhilarating to watch them jump and then bounce afterwards. Sadly, this fair seemed to draw from the minor leagues of the professional monster truckers. While Jurassic Attack was a marvel of molded fiberglass and Maniac could turn some amazing donuts, the majority of the trucks had a penchant for falling apart. Be it popped tires, $4000 shocks falling off, drive trains disconnecting or an engine alighting it seemed that every-other trip around the track ended with a stranded truck awaiting a tow from a front loader. Which, in itself, is not something you see everyday.

Did Lucas enjoy them? Yes, but he was the first to be ready to leave. Couldn’t blame him, since he had to sit rather still for such a long time. By then we were all ready to go, the show had become redundant. But just after we walked out the fair grounds quieted. We left just prior to the last circuit – so we made it nearly to the end. Would I do it again? Yes, if I didn’t have to go too far out of my way. I’d still use Lucas as an excuse, but everyone would know the truth.