I love Fairs

Silver Linings

By Terri Andersen
I love fairs—the carnival atmosphere, the mingling of people, the aromas coming from the food stands, the feeling of celebration that permeates the air—they make me feel light and young and bouncy. But I don’t think fairs love me. Every fair I ever attended provided me with at least one traumatic experience.
The very first fair I attended was the New York World’s Fair (back in the Stone Ages, according to my kids). We went as a group with a class from School. I trudged the miles of fairgrounds with my classmates, Somehow I managed to get separated from them and can still remember the moment of panic when I thought I'd spend the rest of my life wandering around foreign surroundings. Luckily, a teacher found me in time to make the trip home with the group, but I can't say that that fair made the impression on me which the school had hoped for.
By the time I was a teenager, I lost my fear of fairs and when we were spending a vacation in Middletown, N.Y. and I heard the Orange County Fair was being held that week, I was determined to find a way to get there. Since my father wasn't the type to drive his kids five miles into town for something as frivolous as a fair, my younger brother and I decided to walk to it. Our enthusiasm stayed with us during the hike and all through the fair, but when it started to get dark and we realized we had a five-mile walk back, we weren't exactly the happiest people in the world. The next fair opportunity didn't come my way until I was married, had children of my Own, and we moved from Brooklyn, N.Y., to Danbury, CT. Of course, we had to see the Danbury Fair! Even people in the Big City knew about that one, and we couldn't pass it up, being so close and all. Our first visit to the Danbury Fair, however, proved that being in the same city didn't necessarily mean being “close” to the fair. When we found the parking lot filled, we drove around until we could find a place to park, and while it may not have been five miles away, it sure was a long walk to the gate. The trip seemed doubly long. On the way back, with overtired children who just “couldn't walk another step.” We learned our lesson that year...the early bird gets the parking spot. The following year we left bright and early, and got a terrific parking spot right near the main gate. Little did we realize, however, what happens when everyone tries to leave the fair at once at closing time. It took us over three hours just to get Out of the parking lot. Not long after that, we kept hearing glowing reports about a fantastic country fair in Bridgewater,CT and we decided to give that one a try. The parade preceding the fair would have been worth the trip all by itself...I loved the feeling of watching a parade from a blanket on the grass instead of standing 10-deep on a city street, trying to see over Someone's head. And the fair itself had something for everyone...rides for the kids and all the country fair aesthetics for the grownups. - It would have been perfect if I hadn't decided to go up on the Ferris Wheel with my youngest son. By the time we got near the starter again, I begged him in a state of panic to “Let me Off!”—which he did, and my son never forgave me for cutting his ride so short.
By and by, destiny brought us to the good old town of New Milford, CT and I’ve finally found
a fair that's just my speed now. No rides, no parking lots, just three blocks of Green to stroll back and forth, a seat at the bingo game when the feet start to hurt, with a canopy overhead when the Sun gets too hot, and a chance to see all the people we know, whom we might not have run into for months (like Our next door neighbors). The only traumatic experience that took place at this town's Fair was when a bargain I found at a sidewalk sale didn't fit anybody at home.
But, what the hey, the Salvation Army can always use a few brand new articles of clothing.
See you at the fair?