All's (County) Fair
Tonight I took KJ, KM, and one of KM's friends to the Sonoma County Fair. We had a ball, as we do one summer evening every year.
For those of you living in the stifling crush of urban America who have absolutely no clue what a "county fair" is, think of a really low-rent amusement park, a rodeo, a petting zoo, and every product you've ever seen advertised on late-night TV crammed together in a big open space populated by all of the people who usually (a) shop at Wal-Mart, (b) work at Wal-Mart, or (c) live in a trailer in the Wal-Mart parking lot. It's a place to wander around eating greasy food you'd never dare touch in a normal environment, buy weird junk you'd never consider buying in a store (my prize this year — a necktie with musical notes on it; KJ got some New Age-y misting fountain gizmo that cost eighty bucks), and see as bizarre a collection of unwashed humanity as you'll ever find in one location. Anyone who thinks God lacks a sense of humor has never been to the Sonoma County Fair.
For young (and not so young) women, shirts that uncover the midriff (and the stretch marks, cellulite, navel jewelry, and C-section scars that accrue in that anatomical region) were still the height of fashion this fair season. Half the people of both genders (okay, all genders — this is Sonoma County, after all) toured the fairgrounds with a wireless phone plastered to one ear. ("Yeah, I'm walking down the midway with people screaming on the Kamikaze, carnies barking at me left and right, and insanely loud heavy metal and rap music blaring from every oversized speaker in sight. Can you hear me now?")
There were fewer food concessions this year — a recurrent theme the past several fairs — but I scored a pretty decent fried seafood plate (they actually battered and cooked the stuff as I waited; no Mrs. Paul's for these guys) and a better-than-average Philly cheesesteak. KM and friend rode everything that didn't turn upside-down and had a grand time. KJ and I people-watched and had a grand time too.
I know; you're glad you missed it. But when I see the grins on the girls as they troop back to the car at the end of the night, munching cotton candy and with hair still damp from the flume ride, I know I wouldn't have missed it for the world. In fact, I can hardly wait until next summer.
For those of you living in the stifling crush of urban America who have absolutely no clue what a "county fair" is, think of a really low-rent amusement park, a rodeo, a petting zoo, and every product you've ever seen advertised on late-night TV crammed together in a big open space populated by all of the people who usually (a) shop at Wal-Mart, (b) work at Wal-Mart, or (c) live in a trailer in the Wal-Mart parking lot. It's a place to wander around eating greasy food you'd never dare touch in a normal environment, buy weird junk you'd never consider buying in a store (my prize this year — a necktie with musical notes on it; KJ got some New Age-y misting fountain gizmo that cost eighty bucks), and see as bizarre a collection of unwashed humanity as you'll ever find in one location. Anyone who thinks God lacks a sense of humor has never been to the Sonoma County Fair.
For young (and not so young) women, shirts that uncover the midriff (and the stretch marks, cellulite, navel jewelry, and C-section scars that accrue in that anatomical region) were still the height of fashion this fair season. Half the people of both genders (okay, all genders — this is Sonoma County, after all) toured the fairgrounds with a wireless phone plastered to one ear. ("Yeah, I'm walking down the midway with people screaming on the Kamikaze, carnies barking at me left and right, and insanely loud heavy metal and rap music blaring from every oversized speaker in sight. Can you hear me now?")
There were fewer food concessions this year — a recurrent theme the past several fairs — but I scored a pretty decent fried seafood plate (they actually battered and cooked the stuff as I waited; no Mrs. Paul's for these guys) and a better-than-average Philly cheesesteak. KM and friend rode everything that didn't turn upside-down and had a grand time. KJ and I people-watched and had a grand time too.
I know; you're glad you missed it. But when I see the grins on the girls as they troop back to the car at the end of the night, munching cotton candy and with hair still damp from the flume ride, I know I wouldn't have missed it for the world. In fact, I can hardly wait until next summer.
SwanShadow was randomly pounding the keyboard at 11:30 PM
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