Now I know this is going to insult a good many of my Facebook friends and I'm sorry in advance but about the county fair. You probably know a few things about me by now-I come from NY and not the upstate or out east on the island farming New York, but Nassau County-30 minutes on the train to Manhattan New York. The other thing you may know is I DISLIKE NATURE. A concrete world would do me just fine.
But I go to the fair every year and I go for two reasons. In the town I live in you kind of are supposed to go and I really like funnel cake and you can only really eat funnel cake at a fair.
Last year I went on Friday night and bought a bracelet. That was fun. This year we went on Saturday-a little earlier-because I thought it would be good to NOT go at night this year. For no real reason. There were things this year that I didn't remember from last year. For instance-I do not remember paying 20 dollars to get in....8 dollars each for admission and 4 dollars to park. This is Bolado Park in Tres Pinos...nothing there should really cost anything. I didn't remember that last year-and thought maybe we should not go in. But we did.
I also don't remember last year the bumpiness of the parking lot which felt like a that ski race in the Olympics where the skiiers knees are battered up and down the bumps. I don't remember driving so long for parking and I don't remember parking being so far away.
I remembered that we were parked past the bathrooms-as I also have a phobia of forgetting where I park (usually I take a picture of my parking spot on my phone so I can remember). Then we began our walk to the whatever you call the part where the fair begins. The walk was hard with all those bumps and holes and my legs really hurt by the time we made it to the fairgrounds.
All of a sudden I was hungry so we surveyed the different offerings. I knew I was having funnel cake but my attention was on other things like tri tip. Rob wanted sausage but this is not an Italian feast so he settled on pulled pork.We decided to save the food for later and walk around a little first. We saw pigs and sheep and cows and heard one of those auctioneers. This place was crowded-I had never seen so many people in Hollister before. It wasn't long before I said to my husband-let's go. Luckily fellow commoner Kristen spotted me and came over.
Shocked that I was even in a place such as this she began to explain the animal auctions to me. She started saying things like 4 dollars a pound or 2 dollars a pound and you sell the pig then they barbque him for the fair-they bar b q him RIGHT THERE. I'm sure I was confused and luckily Nicole came up and invited commoner Kristen to a free serving of the pig at the fair barbque and off she went. Kristen is so much better at getting free stuff than me it never works for me.
So we went and paid for our really really bad tri tip and pulled pork sandwiches and then onto the funnel cake. The sandwich was so bad but the funnel cake soooo good. So we sat there and ate and watched some guitar player singing and playing guitar by himself on stage. I was thinking as no one else was watching-what made this guy think he should sing and play guitar on stage at the fair? In the background you could hear the noise of the truck pulls in the stadium. I was sure this cost more money because there was a ticket booth and wondered what on earth are they pulling? Is this like those old monster truck shows at the Nassau Coliseum?
And then it dawned on me-the thing that made me really want to go home. One of the things I often forget about living in Hollister is that it is basically an agricultural community. People live in the middle of no where and have oogles of land passed down through generations. People grow and slaughter things here which means there was an abundance of phobia number 42-people dressed as cowboys. With that we packed our funnel cake and bumped our way back to the car for the 20 minute drive out of the parking lot-and headed 5 minutes down the road back to the suburbs.
Behind my desk at work I have a bunch of pictures of The Wizard of Oz...they remind me constantly that this commoner is not in Kansas (by Kansas I mean Long Island) any more.