I’ve never been one to judge by aesthetics, and I have a tremendous amount of disrespect for those who do. However, every year, like some sick bastard with a foot fetish who hangs out at shoe sales, I look forward to the best freak show money can buy. It’s not the Jim Rose Circus Side Show or a two-part Jerry Springer episode…it’s the annual Puyallup Fair.
Growing up in Idaho, the annual fair was a must, not because it was cool or a neat event to attend, it was mostly just because it was the only event to attend. We didn’t really get much in the way of community entertainment that didn’t involve Christian prayer during the days that I resided in the Potato State. I would gather up a few of my good friends, one of which who had use of her mom’s car, and we would get decked out in our blue eye shadow and big hair (mandatory ‘80s fashion) and head to the Western Idaho Fair.
Besides the uber-fattening elephant ears, the best part of the fair has to be the people watching. The biggest freaks of nature turn out for the fair. If you ever want to feel normal and get a phenomenal self-esteem boost, dress in casual duds and take the family to this home-style exhibition of absurd humanity. The first thing you notice is the vast amount of large people. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no coked-up Kate Moss. I’m a 4’11” Italian Jew, which doesn’t give me the genetics to be svelte, but these people are enormous. It’s like a muu muu fashion show at the county fair. I guess in a place where the delicacies include deep fried candy bars and Twinkies, what can you expect.
The people there are also weird-looking in general. As Jeff and I were on our way to the animal barns to expose Rachael to real cows, goats, and sheep, we spotted the most bizarre looking couple I had ever seen, and I’ve seen some pretty fucked up-looking people. He was definitely a nebbish with barely a chin, humungous thick-rimmed glasses, a haircut that looked like it came from a Flowbee, and he was wearing a Jeff Foxworthy shirt (what a shock). The woman standing next to him eating a brick of curly fries had quarter-sized protruding moles on each cheek, I’m not exaggerating. She had a graying, pageboy haircut, and gave her man a run for his money with her thick-rimmed glasses. She was also wearing the signature stretch pants and t-shirt separated by the quintessential fanny pack. They were some site!
County fairs don’t change much from state to state. The Western Idaho Fair that I attended in my girlhood looked nearly identical in respect to its twin in Puyallup, aside from the fact that those attending the Washington fair included black people and Asians. I was also dressed far better at the Washington fair than at the Idaho fair, but I credit that to 15 years and a little maturity. Not that big hair wasn’t absent from this year’s fair, but thankfully, I wasn’t the one wearing it.
Aside from the amusement of viewing crazy-looking strangers, I have always been perplexed by the enormous amount of goth kids that show up at the fair. My best guestimate is that these are rural teens that like myself growing up in Idaho; go to the fair, because it’s the only event to attend. Seattle is a long car ride away, and none of their friends’ moms will lend them the keys to the car. With little options, and a full wardrobe compliments of Hot Topic, they venture to the fair to laugh at their schoolmates in the faux FUBU and Sean John gear, while giving everyone else dirty looks. I feel their pain, and do share a touch of empathy for their misfit-in-a-small-town plight.
Much like everything, age has brought me a new perspective, along with a more sensible color eye shadow. I attend the fair partially to people watch, but also to show my daughter that all cows are not named Connie and don’t speak with a British accent. I feel grateful now going to the fair, because I can finally view the animals and the exhibits as something that is in no way part of my regular life. When I was living in Idaho, I always felt so unsettled about the fact that just down the road from where I lived, on my way to school, I would see those fair animals everywhere. I’m so glad those days are over!
We left the fair and went to dinner at a local diner. As someone trying to watch my weight, the fair cuisine doesn’t exactly jive with my health quest. On our drive back towards Seattle we reviewed all of the animals with a very tired Rachael, and after she fell asleep, Jeff and I laughed about the people we had seen. It was a terrific belly laugh that will carry me over until this time next year, when the $10 per person freak show comes around again.
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