I never wanted to go in the first place. The dogs needed to be fed, it was getting late, and we’d had a long day canoeing on the river. I wanted to go home and grill burgers, make a big salad with the tomatoes and wax beans from the garden, and pour a glass of Pinot. Instead I was sneaking into the county fair through the back gates (not my idea), talking vodka and morning ice cream with an alcoholic contractor, sitting with horse owners by their stalls hearing all about steroids (for the horses) and Oxycontin and Valium (for them). I also learned about the best way to steal a bike, and how to avoid real estate taxes. I was anxious, a little judgemental, and couldn’t wait to get out of there.

And then we started walking down the aisles of fair food. It was a bit aimless at first, probably how some women walk through jewelry stores, staring at the diamonds they can’t have. Ogling. That’s how we were: paralyzed in admiration, as if we’d never known such a thing as fried clams, turkey legs, or waffle cone sundaes existed. No longer was I wondering if the corn was GMO (obviously) or cursing myself for leaving my purse in the car. Instead, I was making important decisions: kennel corn or blueberry pie a la mode? Corn dog or tri-tip sandwich?

There’s something about fairs that turns even the most hardened, judgemental skeptic into a kid again–if just for an hour or so (because truthfully, the magic did wear off eventually). After having a huge plate of pesto pasta and garlic bread from the Pasta King, we all wandered over to the funnel cake stand and admired funnel cakes in the making–the smell of hot oil, the lights from the Ferris wheel reflecting off the metal siding of the cart. So many choices: Chantilly cream, lemon curd, nutella. Finally we decided on raspberries and whipped cream. Sitting down at the picnic tables across the way and watching all the kids run around with their newly acquired plush toys and blow-up bats– there wasn’t anywhere I would have rather been.

I texted my sister: “I’m eating a funnel cake at the fair!”
She wrote back: “Wow, that tops my day by 1000 percent.”
I responded, “Yes it is memorable in a very underbelly of society kind of way.”
And she: “Living outside the box for a day can be exhilarating.”

That was just it. It wasn’t every day you learned to steal a bike the right way or enjoy fried dough at dusk while listening to bad Christian music. Taking breaks from the conventional way we do things is important. I highly recommend the county fair.
(Photo credits: commons.wikimedia.com)