Why I Love the Fair

I went to the Ohio State Fair Sunday, by myself. I've tried to go every year that I can remember since moving my adultish self to Columbus. The day was hot, the people, not-so-much, but, as I choked down some Sweet Potato Fries and peanut butter fudge (at the same time), I reflected on why I love it so much. I have a very set itinerary when I go: visit the butter cow and butter object d'art created that year (ice cream is optional), marvel at the goooooood junk market (aka "antiques"), soak in the "as seen on TV" vendors, ponder the fine arts exhibition (which is almost always, truly, remarkable... some mighty fine paintings and sculptures. For realz), eaves-drop (in horror) on the pro-life booth, look at the crazy chickens, avoid the "birthing" tent, and watch the humanity of midWestern Americans.

This years butter d'art, for some inexplicable reason, was a huge chunk of swiss cheese with, of all things, a cherub floating precariously on the side (see photo). Did anyone involved in its creation think of how odd it is to create a hunk of cheese out of butter? I couldn't have come up with such a dairlicious idea if I were tripping on peyote. And why the cherub? Ah, the inponderables...

Next, the fascination of the Phylis Diller chickens.

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What are we humans doing? Why? Why little chicken? Why is your 'hair' done up in such a elegant fashion? Your surroundings belie your beauty. I've always wanted to set one free, but I can't help but think it wouldn't make it out in the harshness of the Columbus inner city streets. Would the tougher street chickens pimp it out? Would I find it a year later with bright red lipstick smeared across its beak, feathers blighted by undescrible acts of survival?


It's not for me to know, I guess. And, maybe that's what makes the fair so appealling to me. I don't get almost anything there: why such bad food, why am I compelled to eat it, who are all these people who are so different but so much the same, why a butter cow, why a butter cheese wedge?

As I plodded off back home (stomach flipping with lemon shake ups, fudge and grease), why did it comfort me to know that the fair would be back next year, even though, in all likelihood, I would not?