The racing pigs’ names were Brittany Squeals and Squealie Nelson - after the singers of course. They ran neck and neck until they reached the finish line when Brittany nudged ahead ever so slightly. The crowd was going crazy. Pig stench hung in the air, edging out the heady smells of funnel cakes and cotton candy.
I love going to the fair.
This one was the Wyandotte County Fair in Kansas City, Kansas. I bought myself some “fresh squeezed” lemonade (poured directly from the huge containers of powdered mix and tap water) which the teenage vendor dramatically shook (kind of like she was preparing a martini.) Then I wandered up and down the rows of concession stands, on over to the animal pens and finally to the rides and games.
Joni Mitchell wrote a great song once called “That Song About the Midway.” Bonnie Raitt made it her own, singing it in her sultry, bluesy way:
“I met you on a midway at a fair last year
And you stood out like a ruby in a black man’s ear.”
Time seems to stand still at the fair. I could have sworn the bleary-eyed guy at the roll-a-ball booth was the same character I gave my nickels to when I was a kid dying to lay claim to one of those huge, stuffed, pink flamingos.
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