About 'indian nose jewelry'|Indian jewellery for dummies
Having finally recovered from my fair food coma, I bet someone out there might like to read about what else the Rochester Fair offers. Well, maybe not, but I'm a little short on material lately. We had to take two vehicles because all the kids whining about going finally decided they might get something out of it. It was a Monday afternoon, so parking on the fair grounds was not yet full. As I pulled up to the booth, the ex began hollering at the rather large scary looking lady inside. I didn't feel this was any way to start our fair experience. He continued yelling at her, complaining about how slow she was. She spotted him and immediately squeezed out of that booth and thundered over to the car. With arms flailing she grabbed hold of the ex, half hauling him out of the window, and planted a big sloppy kiss on him. She stepped back and smiling like a Cheshire cat, waved us through. Turns out they worked together at the shipyard. He knows everyone. We met the rest of the family by the ferris wheel. There was some discussion about strategy but the kids won, and we went to the rides. I do not do fair rides. I do roller coasters, any chance I get, but do not do fair rides. I found myself on the first fair ride with the middle child before I knew I was in line. It was the same ride that I took the niece on 30 years ago, and then demanded to be let off, blaming my niece, who was ten. I was tucked into the bucket by a burly toothless operator who told me with a knowing smile to hang on to my teeth. He then slammed a screen door up against my nose and pulled the lever. The first whirl and consequent abrupt stop sent the cart spinning in complete roll overs. When my head stopped snapping back and forth, I noticed the middle child was in somewhat of a catatonic state, but emitting a deafening operatic pitch high enough to shatter glass. I tried to catch the operator's attention upon each descent, but I was spinning and zipping by so fast, I ended up screaming at a seagull. I had to be assisted when we stopped, but the kids thought I was very brave. I walked like a disoriented crab as we went on to the next ride, which we soon discovered was shut down due to mechanical difficulties. One of the cars flew off the previous night. I perked up at the scent of the French fry stand. Staggering over to a table I somewhat recovered while stuffing my face with the first fair food delicacy on my menu. The vinegar was in a spray bottle that looked a lot like a rinsed out Mr. Clean container. The little guy got gypped out of $5 on a football game. The ex handed him another $5 and told me to get up there with him and get him some extra throws. I was well trained in the art of dickering, living with a tightwad for many years, so I grabbed the little guy by the collar, telling him simply to "watch and learn". We waited for the crowd to thin, and I said to the guy, "How much?" He pushed up his sleeves, revealing several serpentine tats and said " $5". I pushed uo my lace French cuffs, leaned over and said "For this little squirt? The ball is bigger than he is." This genius looked around like he was being filmed by 60 Minutes and slid over an extra ball. The kid looked up at me in wondrous admiration, threw all the footballs and missed. The ex said, "You had him. Shoulda got two freebies" I told him to bite me. We walked through the maze of junk jewelry, T-shirts, tattoo stands, and all the food stands on my list before hitting the big top. The ex likes to find creative new ways of travel, and decided it would be a shorter walk if we crossed a field to the tent. It was, but the entrance was blocked. So we circled back, ending up almost where we started and went in. The temperature in the tent was all of 100 degrees, and of course the first show was a clown. The middle child started crying because she was afraid of clowns, which I think is ridiculous. Her mother takes her outside and attends to her (I guess she really is). We watched the Great Stumblini all the way from Switzerland fall off his tightrope to the wild applause of the twenty or so attendees. The Great Stumblini all the way from Switzerland also played second banana to a tedious Spanish kazoo musician, so I guess he was ambi-talented when he put hid black wig on. We completed our dickering skills by acquiring a hand knit sweater for the eldest grandniece for the exact price on the tag, a few other one-of-a-kind articles of Indian clothing for the niece that netted us a $3 savings as Raj told us over and over, and a dozen or so half rotten candy apples for later. On the drive home, I must have been in a sugar coma. I envisioned myself starring in another episode of "As the Stomach Churns". I love fairs. To read more from this fair writer click here |
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