By Lyndsey Gilpin
On the curves of 65 South, excitement and tension start to fill the car. Jaws are tingling, craving the sweet taste of a funnel cake or the puckering feel of a lemon shake-up. Billboards have been passed, their words bold and blaring: Kentucky State Fair, Aug. 20-30, 2009.
Another mile and the tip of Kentucky Kingdom’s tallest ride is in sight. After circling the fairgrounds, the driver finally stops the car in a crowded parking lot.
“Everybody leave your phones in the car. It’s fair time,” a young mother says.
It’s easy to oblige. Who wants to text when there’s so much to stare at?
As middle-aged men step out of their cars and climb over the flapping, multicolored triangle flags, they head straight to the Budweiser tent. The party has already started. Roller coasters rumble loudly, only feet away, but they are more like background noise now. All focus is on what’s inside the cement walls of the South, East and West wings.
On the way to the buildings, glances are made towards the tents outside. Hundreds of tan, sweaty necks lean against the back of fold-up chairs. It’s around 5 p.m., and it’s been a long day.
Karaoke has begun in one tent. Children from a rural dance academy are taking turns on stage. All of the girls wear wigs to represent Country music stars. Varying from age five to age 16, the children look as though they belong in beauty pageants.
It’s easy to discern what’s in each wing simply by using your nose. Hay, manure, shampoo and animal smells slap faces as soon as the glass doors open. Immediately, eyes begin scanning the ground for cow patties. Hopping every other step is an absolute necessity. But after a while, people just walk. What’s on the bottom of a shoe is better left unknown around here.
At this point during the week, the only animals left are pigs, sheep and cattle. Aisles are set up for visitors to view the animals. Some sheep “baaa” in their pins, freshly sheared, while others yell as they are held down on shearing stands. Huge showing rings are placed throughout the arena. Here young teens in their flannel, bell-bottom jeans and rhinestone belts prepare their own sheep as if they were in a professional dog show. A girl tries to align her sheep’s legs, but he won’t cooperate. She forcefully holds him still, while her parents look on nervously, a video camera held in their hands. This is one of the most important days of these teens’ young lives. It’s the reason they are here, sleeping in cots under makeshift tents, with clothes hung up on chairs and coffee makers constantly brewing.
Not far away, a little girl sits patiently while her mother tightens her ponytail. She’s about to show her pig. They start young; a four-year-old boy acts as a farmer, taming his 300-pound pig outside of his pen.
Feet away, a tremendous cow walks from the bathing station to its stall, flies swarming around its tail already. The cow seems tired, bored even. It feels silly to believe cows recognize this place, but many come year after year, evidenced by the framed awards hung on the stall walls.
More competitions lie beyond another set of double doors. It’s all judged: wedding cakes, birthday cakes, cookies, candies, quilts, dolls, vegetables, artwork, photography, fish tanks and lamps. It’s all in the eye, or in many cases, mouth, of the beholder. The most bustling area of the state fair is the flea market wing. Thousands of tables sit in rows, helplessly and hopefully awaiting visitors or customers. They beg for sign-ups, plead with gestures and ask for donations. Some booths hold the latest toys: an amazingly sticky bouncing ball or a walking, barking, stuffed animal. Fudge shops offer samples on their counters. Live infomercials somehow grab even the most inattentive of guests.
One of the most popular booths is the flavored coffee testing. An eight-year-old boy takes up the most room at the table. He fills up his sample cup with Hazelnut coffee, drinks it in one shot, then throws the cup on the table and moves to the next flavor, Coconut Cream. He makes the full round, then another. Five minutes later he runs through the crowd to his mom, yelling, “Caffeine!”
Little did he know, a huge sign hangs on the wall, stating, “The coffee sampled is DECAF.”
This booth has been the most happening place. It’s almost as if people become more excited and friendly when they believe they are obtaining an extra amount of energy.
Through more doors yields a world that can be found nowhere else. More booths are set up, but these contain free items. Huge plastic bags are filled with booklets of information, tiny notepads, fresh pencils, stickers, posters, handheld fans and t-shirts; any semi-useful object is available to everyone.
Health products, free testing and substance abuse trailers that hold more information than any student could ever learn in school line the walls. All sit on royal blue carpet; it’s simple, but educational.
A toddler favorite is Safety Town. Police officers guide children on tricycles around a miniature town, holding up their hands to stop them every once in a while. Someone’s toes always get run over and tears fall somewhere in the middle near city hall. But as they cross the finish line, it’s all smiles.
It’s around 9 p.m. now, and although the fair doesn’t end for another two hours, booths are packing up. It’s beginning to get quiet. Janitors start sweeping up the wrappers, Kizito cookie crumbs, cigarette butts and straws. Walking past the outside tents, echoes of off-key, intoxicated guests are all that can be heard.
Now it’s time to head to the car, all the while kicking rocks out of shoes and watching parents try to calm their sugar-high children, two of whom wave glow sticks into the driver’s seat of the car, poking Dad in the face.
Although it is ironic, the glowing lights of the Midway Ferris Wheel against the sunset don’t seem so different after all. They are equally beautiful tonight.
The flag looks natural in this setting. When put in context with sticky teeth, full stomachs, children’s laughter, bags of goodies, jean shorts, loud comments and bold words, crooked teeth and leftover milkshakes, it’s as though the state fair couldn’t be any more American.
