Common Fare

The Minnesota State Fair starts today. What an occasion. Right up there with the Twins home opener and the fishing opener, Minnesotans will take days off of work, hit numerous ATMs and drool in anticipation on the way to the feast. On my way in to work today, a security guard from St. Louis asked me about the fair. I was almost disgusted to tell him where to find the gates that hold in the stench of metal, spilled beer and never-hardening cheese. But as a portly man with a southern drawl, I knew he'd probably enjoy some aspects that don the fairgrounds every year, namely the food. I'll probably advise him to stay away from any barbecue joints if he doens't already know to refreain. Afterall, most southernfolk know not to touch any brisket cooked north of the Mason Dixon line. And to be honest, I didn't really have anything to suggest, and I'm glad I didn't. I didn't want to be acquitted for being an accomplice to the man's death.

Several publications tout "people watching" as a reasonable alternative to scarfing the state's grease. Perhaps they are also trying to avoid serving time. Either way, I think it's outrageous that someone would want to watch pounds of blubber wiggle from one greasy yellow-and-white-striped kiosk on wheels to the next. Of course observers could be interested in oggling the trimmer bunch, but it's kind of sick to watch throngs of under-dressed 15 year olds wander around.

Either way you slice it, going to the fair isn't worth the money you dish out for the piece of paper they rip at the gate isn't really worth it. You come home with a layer of dust, manuer and grease on your body that won't wash off for days. But I'll be honest. I don't care what you do, I'm going to enjoy that footlong pronto pup smothered in mustard and ketchup. There's not really anything quite like it.