The Fair

The fair is a veritable smorgasbord, orgasbord, orgasbord, orgasbord, after the crowds have gone. So says Goose in the 1973 movie version of Charlotte’s Web by E.B White. And so it is, but not just after hours. My favorite childhood memories of the fair revolve around food and freedom the fair brings to us. Fair time, for younger me, was a time to run wild between the aisles of rides, games of chance and of course, food vans. All the bright lights, vibrant colors, larger than life imagery painted on the ride backgrounds mingled with the tantalizing calls of sideshow hawkers, mechanical buzzing and clanking of carnival rides and the growling race car engines pushing cars around the track, over and over again. Mixed in was the aroma of hot buttery corn on the cob, sticky sweet cotton candy, burgers & dogs, funnel cakes, candied apples, sizzling sausages and paper cones filled with painfully hot, fresh cut fries generously doused with malt vinegar. It’s a veritable smorgasbord for the senses. Joyful people laugh and loudly talk over the festive din. Periodically happy shrieks pierced the cacophony as friends met up with friends, briefly raising the noise level. These are the wonderful memories I hold of the fair.

Through it all, my ever-ready stomach grumbled. My favorite fair food vacillates between those vinegary fries and the impossible to eat candied apples. Tough work for a tiny mouth, always up to the challenge.

With a full stomach, I headed over to the rides. A fistful of tickets afforded either a few kiddie rides or just two or three big kid rides. Each year the dilemma was to figure out how to get the most out of those tickets. Decisions, decisions. It was always summertime hot and beads of sweat rolled down my forehead and into my eyes and mouth. Decision made- it was hot and muggy. Big rides moved faster than kiddie rides and they were infinitely more fun. Any roller coasters would do nicely. My favorite part of the ride was just after the car crested a peak and began rocketing downward. That brief zero gravity moment would lift my minute frame from the seat. No fear, said I. The safety bar barely held me in place. I could have easily slid out as that single bar was never meant to secure an impish waif like me. Still, in my youth, fear mixed with confidence and the thrill was complete. My too full stomach fluttered through the twists, turns and plunges of my favorite ride. To this day, wooden roller coasters are my favorite ride. Too soon we’d screech to a jerky stop. The lines to get back on were always so long. “I should probably get something to eat while I wait,” I thought.

Here I sit fifty years later, in sweet, blissful reverie. The fair truly is a veritable smorgasbord, orgasbord, orgasbord, orgasbord.