What do mullets, funnel cakes, monster truck derbies, tattoos, grandma’s homemade plum jam and eardrum-bursting-music have in common? That’s right. It’s time for the state fair.
I have to confess, a tiny part of me misses my hometown county fair. I miss the quant hand sewn lace displays, the blue ribbon jam tasting night, the local beauty pageant host who yells into bad quality speakers. The state fair is missing in a little of that home-grown quaintness, with the exception of the cow and goat barns, where the 4-H students and farmers make everyone smile.
Matt and I tried to put on a good face, tried to pretend that we weren’t old and nauseous and totally unfun in front of my little sister and her friend. But thankfully, “The Screamer” (along with the overwhelming aromas of turkey legs and fried candy bars) had induced nausea and dizziness in all of us. We rested for several blissful minutes on these hay bales.
And then, after the near-barf experience wore off, we decide we could eat. I know, it didnt make any sense to us either.
And just to prove that I’m not making this up, I present to you the “Pig Licker” food stand…. chocolate covered bacon. Matt’s eyes lit up and I responded by saying, “Not in a thousand years.”
And as we made our way home, our bellies full of fried food and our heads still slightly dizzy, I realized there is something timeless about the spinning rides, the squealing children, the gentle wafting aroma of animal manure. It makes me think of State Fair and Charlotte's Web and hundreds of good childhood memories. There’s always something truly comforting about participating in an event so rooted in history.