Being fair

The sights and sounds of the county fair bring up a rather discordant arrangement of memories for me. This version of nostalgia is full of long gone experiences, some good, some bad and some in between. Although this year will be my first Cheyenne County Fair, the county fair where I grew up in Indiana was a pretty big deal.

I recall desperately scrambling to finish a ridiculous load of 4-H projects after a summer of extreme laziness. I would initially enter into every non-animal related category that I found even slightly interesting. As somewhat of a perfectionist when I really care about something, this always sent me into somewhat of a panic during the last week before the fair. I would struggle to come out on top of each category despite having spent most of the summer drinking Kool-Aid on the front porch, playing with my dog and fighting with my brother. I was usually rewarded for my lack of industriousness with one of the lower level prizes, which I actually think contributed to how much I still procrastinate today.

Carnival rides seemed so appealing as a child, although I do remember a terrible cry-fit when I was very small while stuck at the top of the Ferris wheel with my exasperated grandfather. At this point in my life, I don't see any appeal in being nauseous just for the fun of it, but in my younger youth I seemed to covet the ability to take a turn on all the spinny-rides without throwing up while teasing my more easily sickened brother relentlessly. I also remember that one terrifying time that I got locked in the Ferris wheel with the spinning cages and waited for 20 minutes while a less-than-competent carnival worker labored with a screw driver to get me and my friend out of there.

I always enjoyed checking out the 4-H animals at the fair, despite the smells surrounding them. Now I have mixed feelings. I'll never chastise another person for eating meat, because I don't think anyone else's eating habits are any of my business. But I can't help being bothered that cattle exhibits are labeled "beef." If we're going to call cows "beef", why don't we call the pigs "bacon" or "pork chops" or step up the beef a notch and call it "steak" instead? I guess this is probably a product of being a vegetarian in a land of meat eaters, or maybe just over thinking things, as I tend to do.

The smells of the county fair pique my nostalgia the most. That alluring, almost instantly guilt-inducing smell of fried food always makes my mouth water. I flashback to eating an entire funnel cake all by myself and being completely covered in powered sugar afterward. My county fair had the best cinnamon roles, which we waited for all year long. These combined with a gigantic, refreshing lemon shakeup were enough to get a good old fashioned sugar-high going full force.

One of the most cringe-inducing experiences I encountered at the county fair happened while I was shirking my responsibilities at the food both, which was raising money for my high school's dance team. My lazy 15-year-old self wondered off and ran right into my very ill-timed first kiss. I just happened upon my lifelong friend, Zach, and ended up locking lips behind some sort of power transformer. It was not a pleasant experience, and I don't think the trampled grass underfoot or the mingling bouquet of fried food and manures of various origins added to the ambiance. Also, 15-year-old Zach was a pretty poor kisser (sorry Zach) and I was severely disappointed. But every time I go to a fair or even think about the fair, I have to laugh and think of him.

I have so many memories from past fair experiences, but I'm looking forward to being a first timer at the Cheyenne County fair. This year, because I'll be working on stories for the majority of the fair time, I'll try to be professional enough to avoid any rides that induce nausea or any random make out sessions.