Drumroll, please

[landshark]

It is time for the Fair to take its curtain call and slip away into the warm cozy memories that will form the basis of a thousand tall tales later told to grandchildren. (Drumroll, please).

Sunday was the day I paid my respects to the Great Halls of Templeton. I arrived at the Fair well before it opened so as to do George Kilpatrick a favor and give him a live report from the Fairgrounds on his morning show on WSYR. From there, I went to bathe Jeff Kramer in sauce and attitude. And, from there, to a hundred thousand other places as the day drifted into evening and ultimately into night. Though I wanted to close down the Fair, …

(drumroll, please)

… I made it through the concert and one last walk around the Midway before I finally had it. The Fair gave me all She had; and I had reciprocated with the same loving touch for as long as I could.

I was tired. It has been fun. Fifteen minutes before it officially closed, I pulled out of the infield and onto the highway. For the first time in six years, I failed to close down the Fair at least once. Of all the amazing and new experiences I encountered; and of all the die hard traditions I upheld, I failed in my mission to at least close down the Fair one time.

We kissed and said our goodbyes.

Today, Monday, Labor Day, the last day of the Fair was not for me. It was for my wife and child. I was but to be their pack horse and follow them around as they meandered about the Fair in search of fun and food. We rode, we played, we ate like pigs. It was great. All that food I had so religiously passed up over the past 12 days was suddenly laid before me in a giant feast. They shopped. I ate.

Or at least such was the intention.

Fair food to me all looks, smells, and in some ways, all tastes the same. ABSOLUTE FABULOUS. But how much absolutely fabulous food can you eat before it just lacks any impact? Right now, what I dream of …

(drumroll, please)

… is Chinese take out.

At one point we were in the Horticulture Building while wifey was waiting in line for a potato. (eye roll). I took the kid over the Gater Bites stand and ordered just one for a buck. No, I did not get in a slurpee.

When I got it, I let the kid taste it first (in case it was disgusting).

Believe it or not, she said …

Everybody together now …

(drumroll please)

“mmm tastes like chicken.”

I told her they are Gator Bites. Bites of fried alligator meat.

(Seen that commercial with the dog and lease/leash?)

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh”, she said.

The drumroll of the day, however, belongs to the Interpretive Dancer who invaded the Pizza Hut music tent up by the Diving Pool. During a set played by a Folk Singer, the audience was treated to the hilarious antics of probably the looniest nutcase at the Fair.

While listening to songs from Rocket Man, by Elton John to Fire and Rain by James Taylor, the entire audience was much more engaged by the slow steady flowing gyrations of an interpretive dancer who just popped out of the audience, went up near the stage, and proceeded to flow around the crowd.

I would describe this dancer as being is his mid to late 60’s, of short stature, grey hair, looking very ‘aged’ … who was wearing a pair of white shorts with black newspaper headlines printed on them, a leopard pattern skin tight body suit, and get this … a bicycle helmet with an array of stickers on it.

As our dancer gyrated and weaved his arms in and about with the strains of Bye Bye Miss American Pie, it was really difficult to sing out the lyrics while laughing hysterically at the show in front of the show. In fact, the lead singer at the end of Fire and Rain said, “that interpretive dancer, did you see him … a real space cadet … which reminds me of a song …” and then broke into Elton’s hit, Rocket Man.

These are the moments, I explained to my wife, that make the Fair what it is. These are the moments for which I endure so many hours of mindless wandering and eating mouthfuls of dust and grease. Just one glance of a seriously troubled old man having the time of his life expressing his every fleeting passion through movement – that is what can elevate the mundane to a magical moment upon which you can anchor a piece of your history. Never again will any of us visit that tent without a comment about the wackjob old man and his free flowing bodyart.

I took the kid into the Pan African Village and made her sit and do drumming. Yesterday I discovered that wonderful calming experience of sitting around and banging mindlessly on a drum. As much as I would have loved to maintain the rhythm and keep the circle whole, this white boy aint got no sense of beat and generally I made a mess of things. But, for about an hour, I sat and banged away and became one with the Kalahari.

Today, I sat my kidlet down in hopes she would experience the same release. She was a trooper as she gently plodded away.

Me? Of course I had to show off how good I got and started to bang my gong. Two hits into the first sequence and I learned what happens when you try to band a drum too often when your hands are not used to banging a drum too often. OUCH. And ouch and ouch as I banged and smiled as my kid struggled. Oh, did I take the pain. I had no idea my hands hurt that much. Fortunately my kid has no patience for this sort of stuff and off we went in search of low fat ice cream.

The worst drumroll of the day came from the Corona Circus. It sucked ass. The tent was too hot. Four quick acts just bored the crap out of me. All in all, I had a 20 minute nap and woke up drenched in sweat. The first act is a hula hoop girl. Second is a lady who dresses poodles in stupid costumes as the audience drools in anthropomorphic anticipation of the doggie pushing the wagon. Then came the two girl trapeze types. Then another highwire act. Then out. I have no idea just how bad they were other than to say I fell asleep because I was so bored.

Bang your gong and sound taps. The 2005 Fair is history.

Only 353 more days until Opening Day of the 2006 Fair.
_________________
I dont want a life I can live with. I want a life I can't live without.

[newtoCNY]

The fair is not for me. I don't like crowds or fair food (a shared funnelcake is the exception), and petty scam artists like the games on the midway make me sad. I love being with my kids there, and mr newt loves the chooks & goats, but it's not my thing.

So thanks mark for the fair-lover's perspective. A good read, as always.

[landshark]

aww precious newt

you know not of what you speak

for the Fair is a veritable smorgasbord ...

o wait, wrong song

you really need an insider's tour of the Fair to see what it really has to offer. did you know there are four full service bars on the grounds? tequilla and midway rides always mixed well with me.

it is not about doing laps and touching things

that only takes a few hours

there has to come a point where you stop and let the Fair go by you. as you noted regarding the bus, its not riding the bus that matters, it is the totality of the experience of actually getting on and travelling by bus.

next year, book a tour with the Shark.

and if not, then feel free to just tour the book as it will be written

as always, the writing and presentation was my gift to you. i am glad you enjoyed it. i only wish there was more.
_________________
I dont want a life I can live with. I want a life I can't live without.