The County Fair was back in my hometown. It was the first spring since the pandemic began that it was being held, and boy did everyone act like it. Sometimes I like to convince myself that I’d love to go back to the thirties, to see what it was like when Prohibition ended. If this experience proves anything, it is that I am wrong! The white children were OUT. I kept looking around me, like a Yankee seated in the wrong section of Fenway Park, praying that the chaperone to a group of children was close by. None were.
But, cringey behavior by youths notwithstanding, my visit to the fair reminded me of the things about the annual event that turned me off. I’m going to outline them below, and these theses are gonna be like Martin Luther. It’s not gonna make anyone happy, but I’m so brave for doing it!
“Bye, Bye, Miss Evan’s Di(et)”
Of course, of course, the week I sternly look in the mirror, and berate the pasty himbo staring blankly back that it is time to eat healthier is the same week I imbibe the oiliest, deep-fried, best goddamned food anyone could have.
It’s not fair! It’s not fair that the fare at the fair is just so good. I think whichever insane genius create fried Oreos needs to be punished, ad aeternum. It should be that way for all mad inventors. It should go Oppenheimer, the Scrub Daddy guy, and then fried Oreo guy. Sorry!
What are these games?
One of my best friends strolled up to the guy overseeing one of the games. This is another of my favorite parts of the fair; There’s like, 30 stalls to play games at but somehow they’re all the same 5 games.
“How many games is this?” She shows him her pass, a deal when we purchased ride tickets that promised 5 free games for $10.00. A good deal, until you see there’s no clear understanding on what a “game” is.
The game overseer scans her card. “You have five games” he says.
“No, I know, but do I have to use all of them here.”
“You can.”
“But do I need to use all the games playing here?”
"One game is 4 tickets.”
“Right.”
“4 throws is six tickets.”
She frowned. “How many throws are in one game, though?”
“One game…” He trailed off and spread his arms, shrugging with all the enigmatic mystery of a sphinx. It was a marvelous conversation, one that took way too long and was obviously a sham.
I don’t know how every other person was walking around with a stuffed animal the size of a greyhound, but they were.
Me? Stand?
Although these legs were clearly made for walking, they were not made for standing in line.
Entertainment For the Ages
Ahhh. Nothing like the feeling of my religious trauma being brought back as a christian band scream-sings “how he loves us.” That, coupled with the sight of a stall selling AR-15 American Flags really made me stop and wonder where I was.
There’s Always Someone
It’s like Lady Gaga once (multiple times) said: “There can be a hundred people that you’ve met in your life, and you’ll somehow run into all of them at the county fair”.
People I haven’t seen in years all congregate there. You know how you lie awake at night, cringing over something you said one day in freshman geometry? A person from that memory is waiting for you at the county fair, and trust me, they remember.
Despite all my whining, which, let’s be honest is kind of my raison d’être at this point, I had fun. I like the fair for all the right things, the fried food, the bright lights, and for providing a fun night out with friends. I just wish it didn’t remind of what a misanthrope I can be.
Maybe that’s the magic of the fair though. Perhaps it serves a purpose, a kind of cultural catharsis like Mardi Gras or The Purge; people get to get all their hijinks, fried food cravings, packing into line with each other, gambling on questionable games OUT of their system.
And then do it all again next spring.