A Day At The Fair
This summer that I made my first visit to the Evergreen State Fair. I’ve lived in Washington state for thirty years but just hadn’t managed to get to it. Fortunately, my wise friend David suggested that this might be a fun expedition for our families. It turned out to be a wonderful day full of animals, small donuts, and fun. The comedy team of Ball and Hendow was expanded to a rapid-fire improv troupe including wives and children. Definitely a good day at the fair.
This fair has the classic vibe one would expect… it has the exhibition halls full of animals, a large equestrian arena, race track for sprint cars, rides, midway, delicious unhealthy food and (to Teri’s delight) pig races. This was a wonderful day and I’m delighted that we went.
During my years as a young humanoid, I used to enjoy going to the State fair in Oregon. It was a week-long chaotic sensory overload marking annual transitions of seasons (summer giving way to autumn) and school year (vacation giving way to the start of classes). There was also something vaguely sinister and mysterious about the fair, which fascinated me. Like Brigadoon, a whole city arose from the mist once a year and vanished overnight. Because the fair was held in my home town, hanging out at /exploring the fairgrounds was a common weekend activity for my friends and me. During the 50 weeks of the year when the fair wasn’t running, the fairgrounds were largely empty and quiet. Like the tendency of the universe toward chaos, the fairgrounds spent most of the year silently decaying… paint peeling, weeds growing in unkempt grass, everything boarded up with graying plywood. There would be a frenzy of preparation for each year’s fair involving new bark and a little fresh paint – a short-lived veneer of order. Two weeks later the crows would have cleaned up the last of the crumbs and the whole place returned to hibernation, keeping vigil until the following summer.
We never considered the fairgrounds officially “haunted”, but we felt a sense of thrill and wonder. The area was the shared turf of whatever kids showed up to hang out there each weekend, and it was the first place I made friends outside my school. We discovered several places where we could squeeze through boards and explore the dark buildings. Shuttered and mothballed rides sat on their tracks. Broken and missing light bulbs hung like claws. It was a paradise for imaginative kids.
Every summer when the fair roared with activity for a week, I enjoyed the lights and smells and sounds. But I knew the real fairground would reappear when the crowds moved on.