Newspaper article Charleston Gazette Mail

Tilting and Whirling at the Fair

Newspaper article Charleston Gazette Mail

Tilting and Whirling at the Fair

Article excerpt

The sight of Percherons makes me happy, so do deep-fried cheese curds, newborn lambs, and those designer chickens with feathery pom- pom anklets, and then you enter the Horticulture Building and see pumpkins the size of studio apartments, large enough to house a man and his wife, so today I am happy, having attended the Minnesota State Fair, our Mardi Gras, when normally cautious people can go out and be jovial in public. My wife is not a Fair person. Her problem is good taste and a limited tolerance for gluttony and barkers and violent centrifugal experiences in motorized contraptions operated by tattooed men who might have done prison time for larceny. But my daughter is Fair-bred, so I have company.

We Fair people don't care that many people don't like the Fair and want to tell us why. Many people don't care for Bach. So what? Sew buttons on your underwear. What is not to like about a public event at which a quarter-million people jostle around happily, doped up on animal fats, in the uproar of motors and music and the yawp and bark of men hawking beer and pretzels and snow blowers and an amazing blender that will slice, dice, chop, mince or puree and once you have it you will wonder how you ever managed without it?

The River Run is my daughter's favorite ride: You climb aboard a raft and buckle your seatbelt and float down a sluiceway over a series of rapids and waterfalls, which takes about two minutes. We call it the Pee Ride because when it's over, I look as if I couldn't wait for the men's room. This makes her convulse with helpless laughter, seeing her old dad with wet pants. And how often does a person get to experience helpless convulsive laughter? When was your last H.C.L. experience, dear reader?

So I do my part to be a laughingstock, and we walk down the street laughing and have a last delicious glass of Kool-Aid and a frozen custard and go home and wait for next year.

So intense and tumultuous is the Fair, the crowds, the hurly- burly, the screams of young women being flung into the air, the enormous animals being herded through the pedestrian flow toward the show ring, that you notice people forgetting to snap pictures with their smartphones. …

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