The fair comes to town this Friday. It’s not something I even think about until I hear that it’s coming, then I am suddenly filled with childlike excitement and I must go. I know before I even fork over my $5 to the homeless-looking man at the front gates that it is going to be exactly the same as last year, and the year before that, but still, I must go. I love the fair and here’s why:
1. The monkey man. There is always a man walking around the food court area, dressed in some sort of circus type garb carrying a spider monkey on his shoulder. You can’t really pet him, but you are encouraged to hand dollars to him and watch him snatch them with his tiny human hands and put them in the man’s pocket. Yes, I know he’s basically pan handling, and inevitably someone is going to annoyingly ask the man if they can stroke his monkey, but it tickles me. Plus, he wears a little hat. The monkey, not the man.
2. The food. It’s no secret that fair food is an abomination of deep fried deliciousness that probably takes years off of your life with every bite, but let’s face it, it’s delicious. Before the end of the night, I will have a funnel cake generously dusted with powdered sugar and a corndog. They are always coming up with more interesting and delicious ways to kill yourself at the fair. This year I hear they’re going to have deep fried snickers bars on a stick. Yes, please.
3. The hypnotist man. You know the ones. Stage full of people quacking like ducks or putting out imaginary fires. I’m not convinced that people are actually hypnotized, but if they are willing to make an ass of themselves for my amusement, I will gladly watch. I always wondered what was different about the stage. We can all hear the man talking, so why aren’t we all hypnotized? Maybe they pump nitrous oxide onto the stage or something.
4. Gravitron. I don’t usually indulge in fair rides. Unlike amusement park rides which are stable, cemented into the ground, and inspected, fair rides are mobile. They are broken down and moved every couple of weeks and only inspected when something goes wrong. Well, that “something going wrong” could be me falling to my death or losing an arm in some sort of machinery. I just don’t trust them. Besides in any other environment, would you be willing to get on a contraption set up and run by a guy in a ripped pocket t-shirt and a quarter of his natural teeth? “Look-y here what I got…wanna ride it?” So I don’t. Except for the Gravitron. There’s just something about ear splitting heavy metal and spinning until I puke that I can’t resist.
5. Seeing how much teenage boys (and a few sad, sad men) are willing to fork out to win their lady friends a cheap stuffed animal. I like to find the most popular booth and park it. It takes some patience, but they will come. You’ll know him when you see him. He’ll saunter up with his cool swagger, his chest all puffed out, and a woman who’s waaaaaay out of his league on his arm. She’ll point to the giant tiger dangling from the ceiling of the booth that is worth about $5, but will cost your life savings and your first born at the fair, throw out her very effective, yet obviously practiced pout and peacock man will pull out his wallet. He doesn’t want to appear cheap in front of the lady so he throws down $10 even though it only cost $5 to play. The swindler behind the counter knows he’s hooked a big one and hands him his three balls or darts or whatever. The fun begins. My personal record for this engaging activity so far is $110. $50 seems to be about the norm. I’m sure the pretty lady is as amused as I am.
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