Sunday, August 31, 2008

Woodstock Fair


My wife and I headed to the Woodstock Fair today. Neither of us had been in about ten years, though, at least for me, the Fair was always a staple of my childhood, that final hurrah before I headed back to dreaded school. And, its funny how many things changed over a decade.

As expected from a county fair, there were cows:
There were gigantic specimens of produce:
There were porcine pleasures:
(We didn't eat here. The idea of a full pork-chop in a bulky roll was too much for me.)

And, there were the rides, the play-us-if-you're-a-sucker midway games, the fun houses, the blue ribbons, the go-kart races, the crowds, the dusty parking lots, and everything you'd want from the Fair.

Yet, something was awry. Something didn't feel right. It took a moment for me to place my finger on the problem. I shuffled through my memory banks, trying to remember the Fair circa 1996 and earlier.

Then it came to me.

Where were the lumberjacks? They'd always be there when I was a kid, competing against each other to see who could cut through the log the fastest or who could carve a small chair out of a stump the quickest.

Where was the wax museum? That tiny trailer that contained somewhat-decent likenesses of Michael Jackson, Freddy Krueger, and other stars of the 1980s and 1990s was always a stopping point at every visit to the Fair, even if the characters never changed.

And what happened to the cheap ride tickets? Now, you're paying up to $5 a ride. How can a family afford to get their kids on more than two or three of these per visit? (To be honest, I've seen enough episodes of Carnivale to keep me away from a carnival ferris wheel for the rest of my life)

The Woodstock Fair has evolved, plain and simple, even if it doesn't seem so from the eyes of a first-timer.

The food choices have expanded since my last visit. Gone are the days of only eating hot dogs, hamburgers, corn dogs, or sausages. Now you have options from around the world. There were two Thai restaurants! Two! Not to mention the Greek places, Chinese food, and the like.
And, when did a vast swath of men between the ages of 50 and 65 decide that they had to look like the dad from American Chopper? I don't think I've ever seen so many handle-bar mustaches, tank tops, and crew cuts as I did on the grounds today.

Yes, this was the modern Woodstock Fair. As we strolled the paths, listening to the noise of Smash Mouth coming from the main stage (when did Smash Mouth become a Van Halen cover band? I heard them play about 4 VH songs in a row and we made our way through the vendors), we embraced the Fair of old and accepted the Fair of new. For all I know, the things I remember could have vanished from these grounds five or six years ago. And, yet, everything still felt familiar enough. 

The sun was out, the air was dry, and we had fun.

But this vendor sign creeped us out:
Those dead eyes just kept following you as you passed. They also reminded us of the Hardly Boys from South Park:
So, if you have the opportunity, visit your local county fair this Fall. Eat a fried dough. Look at the cows. Marvel at the massive squash. Have fun. But, don't bother to pay $1 to look at the giant rat. Only suckers do that. And, avoid the basketball game on the midway. The balls are over-inflated and the hoops are usually oval or narrowed. Just a word of warning . . .

I've had too much sun. Time to lie down.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

My preference for such an environment has always twilight hours... the point where the ride weary youths are lagging and the live stock start to wane. Where the clack of the track gets a little bit louder and the shite rock n' roll is cranked accordingly.
Bored teens loitering amongst their googly eyes for one another, playing coy with lard killed confectionaries. Oh that familiar smell of diesel and manure... what joy it brings...
Only problem is that these aren't the real pipe hitting Carnie folk, and by pipe hitting I don't mean lead- I mean the rock. Base heads running the midway I promise you.
Please tell me you saw the fantastic local art contest.. I'm sure the crude, bulging eye and thick jawed visage of Zac Effron (done in pencil, none the less) at LEAST got honorable mention....

Ben said...

It really is amazing how many different ribbons get handed out for the artwork. There had to be close to a hundred (or more) photographs with ribbons.

Anonymous said...

That's because in the light of that "county" spirit we're all winners... except the flunkies with their miss firing turn of the century single cylinder engines. Never understood that display of badly painted combustion abominations. See you Saturday.