Beer Bottle Polka

[BlumLaw1]

The lights and sounds of the midway at night are overwhelming. On a weekend night, they overpower you. When it is a weekend night and the last night of the Fair, the electricity hits you like a bolt of lightening. It was about 10:00 last night when the Rat Pack gathered for a rendevous with the midway and the ritualisitc pilgrimage that goes along with the last night of the Fair. It is Yom Kippur, Woodstock, and Halloween all wrapped into one.

Two professional carnies, two plant rats, and one shark went off on a crusade. Every time we hoisted a libation, came the toast ... "THE fair". We came upon the beer bottle breaking booth where I learned why carnies enjoy Fairs. They get all the breaks. You and I pay $2 for two throws. For carnies, it is easy to win prizes when you take 200 throws for no charge. O what a bigshot these two gents were in handing out large prizes to the gang. And yes, I got one also ... or should I say, I got one for my spawnling. I would never be caught dead owning a blazing red velvet dragon.

The adventure led us into the infield for everybody to empty their pockets. Everybody but me. I lived in the grounds. (neeener neeener neeener). En route, we passed a friend wiping dust off their car. In the dust, some assholes has written all sorts of profanity, gang slogans, and nickames. The poor woman *and teacher* who worked all day at the Fair had to end her hard work day by seeing this. We all grabbed paper towels and helped remove the scribblings.

Suddenly two helicopters were airborn over the fairgrounds. Every night after the concert, there is always one helicopter airborn presumably to monitor traffic behavior. Last night, two helicopters were up and circling and each had its spotlights on. This went on for about an hour. We all assumed that the airborne birds signalled the end of the concert and that fireworks were sure to follow. Fireworks did not follow and everybody's hopes fell. We were saved; it was a false alarm. Eventually, the fireworks came and they were spectacular as always .... raise your glass ... "THUH fair".

Ok, lights camera action ... time to get ugly on the midway. Little Ricky now confesses that he dont do rides. Too many fairs and midways in his life for him to trust a midway ride. I wont share the horror stories he told, but suffice it to say that WHO GIVES A DAMN; ITS THE FAIR. We finally convinced him to take one weenie ride as a group and he acquisced to the riding the Pirate. We all climbed aboard and scattered to the two ends of the boat. I had the privilege of sitting opposite little Ricky. Well, at some point, Ricky couldnt handle it anymore and real panic set in. He as half laying down on the seat clutching at the lap bar for dear life. The look in his eyes was of sheer terror. And all I could do was laugh ... and laugh ... and laugh harder than I have in years. He was not playing this time nor doing one of his little routines. This guy was in total emotional collapse and only his machismo kept him from screaming like a little girl and wetting his pants. The "high" of the ride was paltry compared to the entertainment of seeing a grown man in terror from a kid's ride. (Kinda like me and the submarine ride at Disneyland). When the ride ended, the boy got down on his hands and knees and kissed the ground.

Our next mission was to get him into the FireBall, but Strates stopped selling tickets and we ran out. Owell.

We all walked everybody to their cars and I got a ride back to the tent. One last "THUH fair" and just like that, I was alone. I did my chores, paid the tab, did the bookkeeping, and set out to spend one last night on my majikal mystery tour. Just as I was about to shove my air pump into the mattress to blow it up; something became very obvious. The stopper was gone. YUP, the stopper for my air mattress was missing. The last freakin night of the Fair and I cannot blow up my bed. I have slept in mud, in water, through leaf blowers, idling trucks, idling trucks, bleating sheep, more mud, noise, lights, and dust ... I have toughed out 13 nights and here on the last night, when I should be sleeping and dreaming of sugar plums dancing in my head, I have no bed. Fuck it. I laid out the bedding and slept on the cold hard ground. It is, after all ... THUH fair.