Fair Durham
Durham, CT, is home of the state's largest agricultural fair, and one of my coworkers had the idea to go up there last night. So four of us packed into his Volkswagen beetle (the inside of which smells like crayons for no apparent reason), went up 91 a ways, and gradually found our way to one of the free parking lots they were shuttling school buses to and from. It was dark by then, and surprisingly hard to figure out where we should have been going (other than finding ourselves in a 40-minute traffic jam leading up to one of the other free parking lots), so it felt like a blessing to end up in the right place.
(On the way out of the parking lot, later, the only direction back to the highway was a sign that said ALL VEHICLES FOLLOW SIGNS TO ALL ROUTES. I submit this as the least helpful road sign ever.)
You should come to an agricultural fair hungry. I had one of the best barbeque pork sandwiches I'll ever eat (speaking of experiential satisfaction, anyway) before just filling up on kettle corn. It is absolutely impossible to buy kettle corn in a quantity it would be advisable for even four people to eat. We really had to push to make it to the bottom of the bag. We had a long time waiting for the ferris wheel, though, without a lot else to do.
When we left we all felt like there was a lot more food we'd wanted to try. This is probably a better feeling than the feeling you'd have if you actually had tried everything. Gonna have to scratch an apple crisp itch later in the fall though.
If you "detune" yourself enough on one of those round-and-round swing rides, you can dissolve your experience into a fairly incoherent sweep of nighttime colored lights and wind in your face. That's kind of neat. Going on the swing ride at 8:30 or 9 pm, though: freezing cold. We also did one of those abusive carnival rides that treats you more or less how a sadistic kid would treat a hamster in a little cage. I'm not quite sure if it was "fun." "Fun" is usually more fun than that. I'm just glad we only ate through a "small" kettle corn beforehand.
The animal exhibits were surprisingly neat: it's a high-end fair, and they only show le nec plus ultra of, say, the llama set. (Llamas, you'd think, would be kind of ornery, but the descriptions at all the displays made a point of saying how agreeable and pleasant they are to raise. Who knew.) One of the llamas had a ribbon on its pen saying "7th Place, Obstacle Course," and we all agreed that, man, we shouldn't have missed that. There were some old women working with llama wool and yarn, silently, behind a fenced-off area not so different from the llama pens themselves. This was extremely odd.
In another building there were some very attractive, neatly groomed cows; you check right after to see if they're in the "dairy" or "beef" category, to find out how bad you should feel for them. Even the chickens looked extra-fancy, and came in exotic-looking varieties I'd never conceived of. They had the largest, turkey-est looking turkey I've ever seen.
It took a long time to get back onto a bus and into the parking lot. We weren't back in New Haven till 12:30 or so. You wouldn't think a fair would involve so much waiting in line for things, but it does. (I guess that's the price you pay. No one said life would be equitable.) After this, the second annual corn maze excursion is going to seem like a lightning-fast, high-speed adventure. Probably not fueled by kettle corn.
(On the way out of the parking lot, later, the only direction back to the highway was a sign that said ALL VEHICLES FOLLOW SIGNS TO ALL ROUTES. I submit this as the least helpful road sign ever.)
You should come to an agricultural fair hungry. I had one of the best barbeque pork sandwiches I'll ever eat (speaking of experiential satisfaction, anyway) before just filling up on kettle corn. It is absolutely impossible to buy kettle corn in a quantity it would be advisable for even four people to eat. We really had to push to make it to the bottom of the bag. We had a long time waiting for the ferris wheel, though, without a lot else to do.
When we left we all felt like there was a lot more food we'd wanted to try. This is probably a better feeling than the feeling you'd have if you actually had tried everything. Gonna have to scratch an apple crisp itch later in the fall though.
If you "detune" yourself enough on one of those round-and-round swing rides, you can dissolve your experience into a fairly incoherent sweep of nighttime colored lights and wind in your face. That's kind of neat. Going on the swing ride at 8:30 or 9 pm, though: freezing cold. We also did one of those abusive carnival rides that treats you more or less how a sadistic kid would treat a hamster in a little cage. I'm not quite sure if it was "fun." "Fun" is usually more fun than that. I'm just glad we only ate through a "small" kettle corn beforehand.
The animal exhibits were surprisingly neat: it's a high-end fair, and they only show le nec plus ultra of, say, the llama set. (Llamas, you'd think, would be kind of ornery, but the descriptions at all the displays made a point of saying how agreeable and pleasant they are to raise. Who knew.) One of the llamas had a ribbon on its pen saying "7th Place, Obstacle Course," and we all agreed that, man, we shouldn't have missed that. There were some old women working with llama wool and yarn, silently, behind a fenced-off area not so different from the llama pens themselves. This was extremely odd.
In another building there were some very attractive, neatly groomed cows; you check right after to see if they're in the "dairy" or "beef" category, to find out how bad you should feel for them. Even the chickens looked extra-fancy, and came in exotic-looking varieties I'd never conceived of. They had the largest, turkey-est looking turkey I've ever seen.
It took a long time to get back onto a bus and into the parking lot. We weren't back in New Haven till 12:30 or so. You wouldn't think a fair would involve so much waiting in line for things, but it does. (I guess that's the price you pay. No one said life would be equitable.) After this, the second annual corn maze excursion is going to seem like a lightning-fast, high-speed adventure. Probably not fueled by kettle corn.
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