The Great Minnesota Get-Together

Yesterday was our annual pilgrimage to the Minnesota State Fair. Props to the Rev. Kath, for aiding our spiritual journey and being a fun playmate for the kids and necessary emotional support for yours truly.

Growing up in the suburbs of Western New York, I had heard of the county fair, knew people who went, but just never made it there myself. When I moved to MN in the summer of '91, I actually considered renting an apartment next to the Fairgrounds in St. Paul. It sounded festive... if only for late August thru Labor Day.

We chose a different apartment (a hovel, really) but in a great neighborhood. And that was my first year of going to the fair. I think I've only missed one year since.

The Twin Cities are pretty darned metropolitan (so keep your snide comments about 'flyover country' to yerselves) but never too far from agrarian roots. The U of M was a land grant college that still has a significant agriculture component, boasting an impressive farm and arboretum (home of the HoneyCrisp apple, doncha know). Nowhere is this more evident when city meets country during the Fair.

Best part, hands down, is the people watching. And watching people enjoying people watching, not even being subtle about it. FYI - Minnesota Polite is reserved for the spoken word, only. I love wandering through the cattle barn, with cute 4-H'ers resting nonchalantly on their cows like flatulent ottomans - flirting with other cute 4H'ers - while the city folk parade on past. In between looking at livestock and fighting crowds, the biggest challenge at the fair is what to settle on to eat. It's all fried and fabulously bad for you. Breakfast was a corndog and mini-donuts. It went downhill from there... Hours later I'm crunching Tums and wondering who ate the last cookie from Sweet Marthas.

As the kids have gotten older, they are more adventuresome and a bit easier to handle in crowds. What that translates to, in Fair speak, is the Mighty Mighty Midway - rides and games. Here is a perfect example how you are lulled into complacency while being fleeced. First, the rides all take tickets. But today, they all have signs up saying it's a Family Friendly kind of day, so it's 4 tickets instead of 5 for the fun house. Dutifully, I line up to purchase tickets - half-noticing they cost 75 cents EACH but if you buy a sheet for $30 you somehow save $7.50 which when you figure out it's a mere 10 tickets doesn't seem so swell. But by then you've handed over your charge card to the Lions Club volunteer in the hermetically-sealed booth. And then it's time to try to make a decision on which rides/games - taking in the various factors such as height, attention span, bravery, chiropractic availability and gastrointestinal fortitude - while simultaneously following screaming, sugar-addled kids in a zillion different directions. So handing over the money is actually painless, in comparison. Whack-a-Mole is, however, a pretty satisfying outlet for frustration. As long as you don't do the math and realize you just paid $9 for a goofy plush toy.

For the record, toys won at games of chance are not purchased items per se, and when they say "made of all new materials" I think that's a euphemism they use in the sweatshop where they inexpertly stitch all that crappy styrofoam together. Technically, not a cheat in the voluntary simplicity category. And after about $110, not cheap either. But it's once a year, and never dull.

To quote my friend Nina's paving brick somewhere on the Fair grounds:
"I SO love the State Fair! "