Fair Week

Is that fried chicken and horse poop I smell?

Pig sweat and pancakes?!?

Well golly-buttcracks, it must be time for the County Fair!

Golly buttcracks with suspenders, I mean.

...

Every year my boss sets up a booth at the Washington County Fair and recruits mandatory volunteers from her office to man it for the entire week.

Growing up with the country's third largest county fair in my backyard has given me a soft spot for the dirty, the smelly, and the animals.

(hehe, see what I did there?  you thought i was talkin' about the animals...hehe)

So I look forward to my shift.

I watch people walk by.  All kinds of people.  My favorites are the country folk with their boots and jeans and I-don't-care-what-you-think-of-this-cow-manure-on-my-shirt attitude.  They're so simple, yet work so stinkin' hard.  I envy them, but then I look at my pink fingernails and realize I could not maintain a perfect manicure if I'm touching dirty stuff all day, every day.

I also walk around a little, look at the other booths, pick up a Tupperware and Avon catalogue, browse the Pokemon cards and leather chaps, maybe grab an apple cider slushee.

But the very, very best part of this fair, and every other fair, festival and carnival, is the food.  The drippy, greasy, fried-everything food.  If you don't leave the grounds feeling like you're going to vomit, you didn't have enough of an elephant ear/fried veggies/chocolate shake combo.

I, personally, prefer the walk-away-sundae at the Lions Club booth.  Allow me to borrow last year's illustration of this super treat:

Please notice the size.  This is the best ice cream cone I've ever had.  And the old man serving it with the same dirty gloves he uses to take my money makes it a true fair cone.

Ahhhhh.  Good times.

...

My eight hour shift was yesterday.  It will be a whole year before I'm back.  Until then I will just have to settle for the smell of dirty dog and pomegranate and ice cream from Edy's.