Bob Wire Has a Point (It's Under His Cowboy Hat)
Fair to Partly Crazy: It’s Fair Week
Bring Cash and PurellBy Bob Wire, 8-08-08
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It’s Fair Week in Missoula, and because we have kids, we go. We took advantage of Kids Day yesterday, and got them in for free. That, combined with the half-price coupons for unlimited rides, saved us enough money to pay for the Vikings and Tater Pigs we gorged on for dinner, sitting in the grass by the dumpster near the bathrooms. It’s all about atmosphere, you know?
Let me give your fair warning (sorry) right now: once you enter into the midway/carnival area, you can’t get out. I spent at least half of our four hour stay in that labyrinth, like a rat who’d lost the scent of the cheese. This year the nefarious layout is arranged like some kind of complicated maze, where each turn brings you not to an exit, but to another geegaw-crammed booth where you aim a projectile at an object in order to win a valuable prize like, oh, an inflatable hammer. At one booth they have you try to break beer bottles with a rock. The line of fishermen waiting to play must have been a hundred feet long. I had to wait nearly half an hour for my turn.
The midway was thick with grubby kids. Nothing says “my mom smoked and drank while she was pregnant” like a rug rat with a Mohawk. I know it’s just hair, but it makes an otherwise normal-looking kid seem belligerent and bound for a life of crime. These thoughts were going through my head last night, as I encountered at least four stripe-shaved urchins running through the midway. I goaded Rusty, trying to convince him to get a Mohawk, but he refused.
As the dad and chief role model, my job was to accompany the kids on any rides. The very first one was the Star Trooper, a deceptively simple ride that is designed kind of like a big horizontal wheel, with a four-seat bucket at the end of each spoke. It rotates, of course, causing the buckets to swivel out with the centrifugal force. Then the wheel tilts on its axis until it approaches vertical, sending the riders through alternating bouts of weightlessness followed by about 8 G’s force at the bottom of the loop. Then they stop the thing and reverse the direction, so you get to throw up from both sides of your mouth.
It was pretty exhilarating, and in the time it took to walk through the midway gauntlet to the Round-Up, I was able to get my eyes uncrossed and my sphincter unclenched. We were in need of a cold drink, so Barb and I stood in line at a food stand while the kids went off to find a midway game to play. I’d given them each five bucks to play with. Rusty had tried to buy a lemonade, but I told him to put his money away. “That money is for you to waste, son, not to use on food or drink. I’ll get this.”
The kids returned and excitedly announced that Speaker had won a fish.
“Is it on a stick?” I asked. My mission at the fair is to eat all foods on a stick.
“No, dad,” she said with a dismissive look. “It’s a live goldfish!” Barb and I exchanged a glance, and she explained that we weren’t going to carry a live goldfish around in a bag for the next several hours.
“Oh, that’s okay,” Rusty chimed in. “they sell mini-aquariums for only $8.00!” So that’s the dodge, I thought. Give away the ten-cent goldfish in order to force the kid to pay $8.00 for the fifteen-cent aquarium. God, I love capitalism.
We nixed the goldfish and continued to the rides. I got on the Round-Up with Rusty and as we started spinning, I noticed a nice-looking woman directly across from me, wearing a tight, low-cut top. As the ride picked up speed and we were smashed back into the wall, I became mesmerized by the rhythmic undulations of her generous cleavage area. It looked like an amoeba splitting, then rejoining. Splitting, then rejoining. Before I knew it, the ride was over. God, I love science.
Later, when we were watching Rusty and Speaker go down the Fanny Flyer a few dozen times, I could see the underside of the Round-Up when it was spinning full speed, tilted all the way up. I was shocked to see that the whole thing was being propelled by an old car tire. At least it was a white wall.
Far across the midway, I also noticed that the Star Trooper was being repaired. That sent a chill down my spine. A headline flashed through my head: “Area Man Injured In Bloody Carnival Ride Breakdown.” I figured when they have to start working on the rides, it’s time to go see the animals.
As is my custom, I walked slowly through the pig barn while gnawing on a Viking, reminding the porcine population who was at the top of the food chain. That’s right, Porky. Me. Conversely, I took an ice cream cone into the dairy cow area, thanking the ladies for their creamy contribution to my ever-expanding girth.
We passed through the petting zoo, where there was a young llama that looked surprisingly like Prince, and decided that it was time to go. This decision was bolstered by the impressive heat lightning starting to flash above the hills south of town. By the time we got back to the car, the first fat raindrops were beginning to fall.
Stuffed with fair food, clutching their hard-won but soon-to-be-forgotten prizes, the kids staggered into the house to get ready for bed. We were all worn out from another great trip to the Fair. It’s an important part of the summer for us, like Benson’s corn or fly-fishing the Blackfoot. As I sat on the back porch with a cold beer, watching the lightning and letting the rain wash the midway stink off me, I raised a toast to good ol’ Missoula, and shook my head at the thought that anyone would want to live anywhere else. (Although I’m glad they do.)
I sipped my beer, waiting for Rusty to fall asleep so I could slip into his room with the hair clippers…
[When the dust settles, make sure you’ve bookmarked NewWest.net/BobWire.]
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Comments
I mean, look at this little guy: http://www.flickr.com/photos/patia/2489218548. How adorable is he?
Don't worry, though, I'll forgive you. You pretty much redeemed yourself with the "you get to throw up from both sides of your mouth" line, anyway.