The smell of Karmel Korn and barbeque float in the air. The sounds of various musical acts blend together with the voices of the judges from the animal arenas if you stand in the right place. Ears of roasted corn on the cob walk by, waiting to meet their fate with the teeth and stomachs of hungry fair goers. And I watch it all.
I see the single mothers with their kids, alternately looking for entertainment for the kids and a guy they can escape into. Some are just their with their kids. An altogether lovely thing to see. Some dads are present, some there in body only. The teen age girl asking their friend "Who else is here that likes me?" Their peer male counterparts in packs trying to out-cool each other, yet cognizant of the pecking order.
The older folk who remember when the fair was an agricultural attraction with the latest flowers, the big animals, the equipment, the canned goods, and what quilts were made by the ladies of the island. They move more slowly, sometimes with a lost look in their faces at the new fangled facade of the attention to musical acts, the carnival attached to the fair, and the availability of so many more food choices than when they were young. In the heat they start to look worn out before they crash. I watch it all.
People off their meds, or on too many or the illegal kinds, occasional drunks who make their way in, the politicians carrying on their own circus, the strutting teenage hormones, little kids with wonder in their eyes, the animal people in their own part of the fair and world with boundaries where the rest of us mingle with them briefly. People who eat too much, get too hot, and go for the rides anyway and end up in the medical both complaining of nausea. We let them puke in private. The patient with an allergic reaction, a chest pain complaint, and all four at the same time. Sometimes lending a hand to the team to get these people what they need. I watch all this too.
I monitor the 18 calls we received this day while so many our our emergency responders are at the fair. An unusual day. And people walk by laughing, kids with stuffed animals, and people digging the sun, the music, the food, while an ambulance drives away to the hospital, someones truck is on fire a couple miles away, and the marine team is rescuing someone who has fallen into the water miles away from where we are, in lives completely separate from the fair.
Food on sticks, the flip-flops, boots, and heels, the skirts, tops, or lack thereof, hair do, jewelery, uniforms, decorations, long lines to get curly fries, the tired, overwhelmed, bored, happy, plugged in and dropped out, connected, young and old. I have been there, I will do that. Or not. This is my home fair.
I breathe in, and watch it all.
I see the single mothers with their kids, alternately looking for entertainment for the kids and a guy they can escape into. Some are just their with their kids. An altogether lovely thing to see. Some dads are present, some there in body only. The teen age girl asking their friend "Who else is here that likes me?" Their peer male counterparts in packs trying to out-cool each other, yet cognizant of the pecking order.
The older folk who remember when the fair was an agricultural attraction with the latest flowers, the big animals, the equipment, the canned goods, and what quilts were made by the ladies of the island. They move more slowly, sometimes with a lost look in their faces at the new fangled facade of the attention to musical acts, the carnival attached to the fair, and the availability of so many more food choices than when they were young. In the heat they start to look worn out before they crash. I watch it all.
People off their meds, or on too many or the illegal kinds, occasional drunks who make their way in, the politicians carrying on their own circus, the strutting teenage hormones, little kids with wonder in their eyes, the animal people in their own part of the fair and world with boundaries where the rest of us mingle with them briefly. People who eat too much, get too hot, and go for the rides anyway and end up in the medical both complaining of nausea. We let them puke in private. The patient with an allergic reaction, a chest pain complaint, and all four at the same time. Sometimes lending a hand to the team to get these people what they need. I watch all this too.
I monitor the 18 calls we received this day while so many our our emergency responders are at the fair. An unusual day. And people walk by laughing, kids with stuffed animals, and people digging the sun, the music, the food, while an ambulance drives away to the hospital, someones truck is on fire a couple miles away, and the marine team is rescuing someone who has fallen into the water miles away from where we are, in lives completely separate from the fair.
Food on sticks, the flip-flops, boots, and heels, the skirts, tops, or lack thereof, hair do, jewelery, uniforms, decorations, long lines to get curly fries, the tired, overwhelmed, bored, happy, plugged in and dropped out, connected, young and old. I have been there, I will do that. Or not. This is my home fair.
I breathe in, and watch it all.
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