Ahh, remember the joy and excitement of going to the fair when you were a child? I do. It was something I looked forward to every summer. I have fond memories of going to the fair and couldn’t wait to take my girls. There is just something thrilling about risking your life on rickety rides, the smell of a 3000 calorie funnel cake, waiting for your lemon shakeup as some prepubescent acne faced girl shakes her milkshakes more than your shakeup and doing it all in the presence of pedophiles disguised as carneys (cue the Joe Dirt clip) . I mean, doesn’t that just scream good wholesome American fun? So, of course, I had a
memory lapse a lapse in judgment a small stroke and took my girls. Dear God, why did I do that? Oh yeah, apparently everything is remembered through rose colored glasses beer goggles because my memory was a damn liar! That little bastard put me and my girls in danger.
When I was a kid, I was always so excited to go. As an adult, not a little kid spending the day in the safety of their parents making memories or as a teenager sneaking off to meet some boy, a real honest to goodness grown up…a Mommy no less; I’m here to tell you that the fair is no place for a family after dark. Weird people come out of the woodwork like roaches scattering and strange behaviors ensue. I mean there are some things that just can’t be unseen! I swear I do not remember the fair being such a freak show and complete assault on my senses; a plethora of ugly people , the stench of garbage and port-o-pottys enveloped me. There was no escaping it.No offense to anyone who may intentionally associate with ,be related to, or themselves be an avid member of that freak show.
It was like a Wal mart convention on the Midway. Here , I am walking around with my two girls in tow..thank God for my in laws who were with us serving as a little bit of a shield to all of the craziness.
Only the crème de la crème hit the fair after dark. You know the ones; crimped hair, tube tops, camel toes and ass shorts, mullet wearing, one toothed wonders who make up most of the population of the countrified beer garden? Yeah, those are the ones we were hanging out with that night. Luckily, my daughter’s were unfazed and will spend the next 20 years recollecting “the fair” with a great fondness saturated with laughter and recollections of Grandma ChaCha buying them popcorn and Grandpa Denny riding the carousel with them. But one day, when they take their own children, the magic of the fair will be exposed to them and the spell will be broken.God willing. I hope they don’t devolve into the avid nightly fair goers of whom I speak. There are no fireworks or free concert, in the world, worth exposing your children to the FAIR at night!
Moral of the story; there is a reason the fair only comes to town once a year!