I guess that’s why it’s called a fair.
“I thought you said we were going to have fun here?” Maya sulked. I looked down at her and replied, “Maya, that’s not nice.”
We’d never been to the Cheney Fair before. I’m not even sure if I’ve ever been to a fair ever, unless a teeny, tiny small town church picnic counts. Every August, my parents would drive my sisters and me three hours to my dad’s hometown.
I can remember the sounds.
I can remember the smells.
I can remember lots of little things, like watching the ferris wheel (and the kid that fell off. Never getting on another one of those), the smell of the tractor train that drove the kids around town.
I can remember how hot it was there. Always so stinking hot. I can remember the hamburgers and hotdogs. And, this mouse gambling game. Someone placed a mouse in the middle of a wooden table, as everyone eagerly waited to see if it would run into their hole.
I can remember people carrying beers, red solo cups of beer. I can remember my first year back after I’d gotten married, I got to enjoy my first beer at the Tipton Church Picnic. Best picnic ever.
I can remember the fast, loud voices of the auctioneers. The trinkets and trash that covered the tables under the high tents. I can remember the big room that had quilts hanging on the walls.
I had such fond memories of the Tipton Church Picnic. I smiled as we pulled into the small town of Cheney, to go to the fair . It was country. I loved it.
I could feel sweat dripping down my back as we walked up to the gates. Not sure where we entered, but there was an open gate and a strong smell of farm animals. I’m sure this would do.
Then Maya saw the rides. She was so excited! We walked through the whole area, none of the rides were open. Wtf. What’s a fair without rides for kids? Well, rides they could actually ride on, not just look at. Lame. Apparently this was the first year they weren’t open all day. We weren’t the only ones sad. That’s when Maya sulked, “I thought you said we were gonna have fun here.”
So I promised them sno cones. Please, God, please let there be sno cones. We walked some more, hoping to see a few kids games. Nothing. They did score a free football and pom poms from the cable company booth. Although, I think my monthly cable bill helped them pay for these trinkets.
Then I heard music and saw little girls dressed in black sequence tops, silver glittery leggings and puffy, pink skirts dancing. A talent show! Things were looking up. Well, until when we actually did look up and saw a sky full of dark clouds.
As we drove home all we could hear was the shrieks and giggles of the kids in the backseats, waving their pom poms wildly in the air.
I guess that’s why it’s called a fair. I can’t tell you it wasn’t a fair experience. Maybe we’ll try again next year.