All Faired Out

I know you all want the details of my night of debauchery on Saturday, but I really don't think I need to go into that. I'll just say it was A.'s high school reunion, I drank wine AND beer AND a shot of Wild Turkey, and it was all downhill from there. Sunday morning was rough. I was, ahem, indisposed. A. was going crazy with excitement for the fair. I don't think I have yet conveyed to you how much he loves The Great New York State Fair. He talks about it and looks forward to it literally all year. He got up at 7:30 a.m., raring to go. I was not. By about 9:30 a.m., I was pretty sure I would survive. Around 10:30 a.m., I gave in to A.'s pleading, and we left.

The thing about The Great New York State Fair (the whole name must always be capitalized, and I think there may be legislation requiring that the word "Great" always be a part of the name) is that it is complete sensory overload. It's loud and bright and smelly and dirty and crowded and delicious. If you're into grease. Which I was, because, of course, grease cures hangovers.

The first place we went was the Italian sausage stand, so A. could get sausage. I took a pass on the sausage and instead got some poutine. This is a Canadian import of french fries covered in cheese and gravy. Thank you, Canada.

The second place we went was, of course, the sheep barn. A. was very unhappy to learn that my, ahem, slow start had caused us to miss the Merino show, but there was still a lot of sheep showing yet to be done, so all was not lost. In the meantime, we wandered around the goat barn, the pig barn, the poultry barn, and the dairy cattle barn.

This year was the first year we were there for a dairy cattle breed other than Holsteins. Holsteins have been bred purely to produce vast quantities of milk, which task they perform admirably, but at the cost of aesthetic appeal. Holsteins are graceless and ugly, is what I'm saying. In my opinion. Yesterday, the Jerseys were being shown. Have you ever seen a Jersey cow? They're so pretty. They look kind of like deer. Anyway, I was glad to see the smaller, more attractive Jersey this year. They produce richer and better-tasting milk, too. But moving on . . .

Around this time we got tired of battling the crowds. Although, let's talk about those crowds. The Great New York State Fair is the best place EVER for people-watching. It's . . . colorful. The hairstyles alone are worth going to the fair for. There are always a multitude of completely tasteless t-shirts as well. Which is, I suppose, better than the men who don't wear ANY shirt. We saw some of those too, although the new fair director is trying to make the fair less trashy. He must not have lived in this state long, because that's a losing battle if I've ever heard of one.

We ended our fair-going where we started--in the sheep barn. We sat in the bleachers for a couple of hours, culminating in the Best in Show competitions for rams, ewes, and flocks. It was sort of impressive to see 17 fully grown rams all gathered together in a space not much bigger than my living room. But I was more than ready to go home by the time the Best Flock was crowned.

All together, we spent more than 6 hours at the fair. By the time we got home, we were suffering from post-traumatic stress. I was in bed by 8 p.m. The Great New York State Fair (and Wild Turkey) will do that to a person.