Last Saturday night, walking from a barbecue in Santa Monica to our car parked blocks away, I said to Rick, "You know we're at a different place in our lives than your classmates, 'cause we're skipping a kegger to get up early for the county fair."
"County fair" makes you think of Iowa, Illinois, Kansas. Not LA County. But LA County is big, and includes some fairly agricultural areas, so there you go. The LA County Fair, unfortunate tagline, "Kinder. Simpler. Funner." Way to reinforce the stereotype of more rural people as illiterate hicks.
The first thing I noticed, other than the sheer enormity of the Fairplex's parking lot, was the separate line for people with wheelchairs and strollers. (Insert mean joke about children being a handicap.) There were a lot of strollers. In fact, there seemed to be more people in the stroller line than anywhere else. And me without my Klonopin. There was also a disturbing number of people in rented vehicles that one sits in and rides sort of like a motorized golf cart/wheelchair. Nice innovation for the elderly, for whom walking around a large fairground all day might be taxing. However, all the youngish, healthy-looking people riding them gave me pause. Especially the obese ones. If you're morbidly overweight, isn't a nice stroll exactly what you need?
Another thing that made me shake my head only a few minutes into the fair experience was the food. Call me sheltered, but I'd been unfamiliar with deep-fried Twinkies, Oreos, and Snickers bars. (There was a whole Deep-Fried Favorites category in the program's listing of fair food.) The food-on-a-stick genre was also well-represented, with your basic Hot Dog On A Stick supplemented by egg roll on a stick, pork chop on a stick, and -- for your ultimate experience of fried *and* sticked -- mac and cheese on a stick.
I think this might also be the only nation to host competitions based on how fast you can stuff the most food down your gullet. (Nauseating examples here, here, here, and here). And don't forget incredibly oversized portions, such as the Texas Donut.
So it was a relief to stumble into The Vineyard, a sedate, semi-classy building dedicated to wine education. And off in the corner was The Beer Tavern, showcasing the winners of this year's commercial beer competition and offering samples. Alas, it was 10:30 in the morning and we elected to return later.
The next pleasantly air-conditioned building we ducked into was the Education Expo arts exhibit, where we spent some time looking at kiddie art. Some of it was teenage art, actually, and fairly impressive. Particularly the deluxe furniture build by wood-shop geniuses. Tables, desks, and only one gun rack!
Another oddly museum-like exhibit was the building full of living rooms. Huh. This is where I started to think the high price of this fair ($14 for adults on the weekend, though we got in for free, long story) was justified. This thing takes some effort, and it's not just a bunch of cows and oversized zucchinis. That building also had a few rooms of photography. In addition to the usual Artsy Pics and Beautiful Scenery, there were a pleasing number of shots with a sense of humor. In one, a dog looks eagerly out the car window at the little dog in a Legally Blonde billboard. Cute.
For every bit of genuine culture, of course, there must be 5 servings of commercial schmaltz to pay for it. Imagine that you have satellite television, it's 3 a.m., and you can't sleep. Now imagine that every infomercial on every channel has come to life in a series of buildings, so that everywhere you walk, someone is demonstrating a gadget to help you chop your food, clean your floor, or lose 20 pounds. In its own words, "The Fair is the largest consumer products show in the west. There are products and services for sale or display at almost all corners of the grounds," (is this something to be proud of?) "Guests can purchase anything from a small diamond to an in-ground swimming pool, modular home, clothing, kitchen gadgets and home improvement items." Three words: designer toilet seat. A few more: dozens of flavors of beef jerky.
Hidden in the back of some of these buildings dedicated to commerce, you could find the Tapestry of Tradition exhibits, featuring old-fashioned County Fair items like the winners of quilting bees and bake-offs. Display cases full of muffins, cakes, breads, and cookies. Fruit-fly heaven.
A quick break for the greasiest pastrami sandwich in the world. The woman in line in front of me was named "America." Then we were off again to Heritage Square, the educational but hokey recreation of the wild west. (More accurate than the similar displays at German fairs, which imply that cowboys ate ox.) Mostly kiddie fare (wow! pan for gold!) but I was actually interested in the metal spinner, intrigued as I am lately in crafts that would be good to know when the apocalypse comes. This guy had bowls and plates for sale that, while expensive, will probably last long enough for you to will them, in good condition, to your great-grandchildren. Jack Davis is one of only 25 to 50 metalspinners left in this country. He gave a demonstration in which he turned a flat copper disk into a bowl using a giant machine and some odd-looking tools. He made it look easy, but I'm sure it's not (I was reminded of our chance to watch glassblowing this summer, and now I regret never asking my friend Elana in Cambridge if I could watch her make her stained glass.) The website says "Jack is looking for any grants that may be available to assist in keeping this dying craft alive for future generations." I hope he finds them.
Okay. We could escape the animals no longer. Bunnies. Lots of bunnies. Followed by a much stinkier building of cows, goats, pigs, and sheep. Suckling pigs, baby goats, and so on. Much ooh'ing and awww'ing. We even threw dignity to the wind and stood in line for the petting pens, as it's not often city folk get to pat a pig. The milking exhibit gave me a strong craving for a big glass of milk, but by the time I saw the stand where they were (of course) selling big glasses of milk, I'd thought a little harder about the process and decided I'd stick to my overpriced water.
A word about the LA County Fair and water. Most fairs, we've noticed, won't let you bring in any outside food or drink, so we didn't bother trying. What we learned too late -- after we'd left the fair and I was poring over the program -- was that any of the food/drink vendors were required to give out free, small cups of water upon request. Try this at your next public event when bottled water is $2.50!
Next-to-last but not least, the pig races. We went for humor value but apparently there are some people in southern California who take pig races very, very seriously. There was much indignant shouting at those of us who stood in the large space between the bleachers and the pigs. So we all moved -- when the emcee told us to, not in response to the psychotic drunk-on-Bud ravings of the rubes in the bleachers -- but Rick and I decided that a) pig races aren't really funny, b) the emcee's horrible puns were particularly unfunny and c) between the critical mass of small children in the barnyard area and the pig-race hecklers, we were about done with the LA County Fair masses.
We did make one final stop back at the Beer Tavern to sample some tiny cups of brew. (more here for the beer nerds) Some wine drinkers being idiots about the oh-how-icky-BEER they were lowering themselves to taste, but in general, it was nice to be back among our people. Then we left the massively crowded fairgrounds behind.
Our final assessment was: interesting, fun, glad we went, but..aaauuurrgghh! Sea of humanity!
And "funner" is still not a word.
"County fair" makes you think of Iowa, Illinois, Kansas. Not LA County. But LA County is big, and includes some fairly agricultural areas, so there you go. The LA County Fair, unfortunate tagline, "Kinder. Simpler. Funner." Way to reinforce the stereotype of more rural people as illiterate hicks.
The first thing I noticed, other than the sheer enormity of the Fairplex's parking lot, was the separate line for people with wheelchairs and strollers. (Insert mean joke about children being a handicap.) There were a lot of strollers. In fact, there seemed to be more people in the stroller line than anywhere else. And me without my Klonopin. There was also a disturbing number of people in rented vehicles that one sits in and rides sort of like a motorized golf cart/wheelchair. Nice innovation for the elderly, for whom walking around a large fairground all day might be taxing. However, all the youngish, healthy-looking people riding them gave me pause. Especially the obese ones. If you're morbidly overweight, isn't a nice stroll exactly what you need?
Another thing that made me shake my head only a few minutes into the fair experience was the food. Call me sheltered, but I'd been unfamiliar with deep-fried Twinkies, Oreos, and Snickers bars. (There was a whole Deep-Fried Favorites category in the program's listing of fair food.) The food-on-a-stick genre was also well-represented, with your basic Hot Dog On A Stick supplemented by egg roll on a stick, pork chop on a stick, and -- for your ultimate experience of fried *and* sticked -- mac and cheese on a stick.
I think this might also be the only nation to host competitions based on how fast you can stuff the most food down your gullet. (Nauseating examples here, here, here, and here). And don't forget incredibly oversized portions, such as the Texas Donut.
So it was a relief to stumble into The Vineyard, a sedate, semi-classy building dedicated to wine education. And off in the corner was The Beer Tavern, showcasing the winners of this year's commercial beer competition and offering samples. Alas, it was 10:30 in the morning and we elected to return later.
The next pleasantly air-conditioned building we ducked into was the Education Expo arts exhibit, where we spent some time looking at kiddie art. Some of it was teenage art, actually, and fairly impressive. Particularly the deluxe furniture build by wood-shop geniuses. Tables, desks, and only one gun rack!
Another oddly museum-like exhibit was the building full of living rooms. Huh. This is where I started to think the high price of this fair ($14 for adults on the weekend, though we got in for free, long story) was justified. This thing takes some effort, and it's not just a bunch of cows and oversized zucchinis. That building also had a few rooms of photography. In addition to the usual Artsy Pics and Beautiful Scenery, there were a pleasing number of shots with a sense of humor. In one, a dog looks eagerly out the car window at the little dog in a Legally Blonde billboard. Cute.
For every bit of genuine culture, of course, there must be 5 servings of commercial schmaltz to pay for it. Imagine that you have satellite television, it's 3 a.m., and you can't sleep. Now imagine that every infomercial on every channel has come to life in a series of buildings, so that everywhere you walk, someone is demonstrating a gadget to help you chop your food, clean your floor, or lose 20 pounds. In its own words, "The Fair is the largest consumer products show in the west. There are products and services for sale or display at almost all corners of the grounds," (is this something to be proud of?) "Guests can purchase anything from a small diamond to an in-ground swimming pool, modular home, clothing, kitchen gadgets and home improvement items." Three words: designer toilet seat. A few more: dozens of flavors of beef jerky.
Hidden in the back of some of these buildings dedicated to commerce, you could find the Tapestry of Tradition exhibits, featuring old-fashioned County Fair items like the winners of quilting bees and bake-offs. Display cases full of muffins, cakes, breads, and cookies. Fruit-fly heaven.
A quick break for the greasiest pastrami sandwich in the world. The woman in line in front of me was named "America." Then we were off again to Heritage Square, the educational but hokey recreation of the wild west. (More accurate than the similar displays at German fairs, which imply that cowboys ate ox.) Mostly kiddie fare (wow! pan for gold!) but I was actually interested in the metal spinner, intrigued as I am lately in crafts that would be good to know when the apocalypse comes. This guy had bowls and plates for sale that, while expensive, will probably last long enough for you to will them, in good condition, to your great-grandchildren. Jack Davis is one of only 25 to 50 metalspinners left in this country. He gave a demonstration in which he turned a flat copper disk into a bowl using a giant machine and some odd-looking tools. He made it look easy, but I'm sure it's not (I was reminded of our chance to watch glassblowing this summer, and now I regret never asking my friend Elana in Cambridge if I could watch her make her stained glass.) The website says "Jack is looking for any grants that may be available to assist in keeping this dying craft alive for future generations." I hope he finds them.
Okay. We could escape the animals no longer. Bunnies. Lots of bunnies. Followed by a much stinkier building of cows, goats, pigs, and sheep. Suckling pigs, baby goats, and so on. Much ooh'ing and awww'ing. We even threw dignity to the wind and stood in line for the petting pens, as it's not often city folk get to pat a pig. The milking exhibit gave me a strong craving for a big glass of milk, but by the time I saw the stand where they were (of course) selling big glasses of milk, I'd thought a little harder about the process and decided I'd stick to my overpriced water.
A word about the LA County Fair and water. Most fairs, we've noticed, won't let you bring in any outside food or drink, so we didn't bother trying. What we learned too late -- after we'd left the fair and I was poring over the program -- was that any of the food/drink vendors were required to give out free, small cups of water upon request. Try this at your next public event when bottled water is $2.50!
Next-to-last but not least, the pig races. We went for humor value but apparently there are some people in southern California who take pig races very, very seriously. There was much indignant shouting at those of us who stood in the large space between the bleachers and the pigs. So we all moved -- when the emcee told us to, not in response to the psychotic drunk-on-Bud ravings of the rubes in the bleachers -- but Rick and I decided that a) pig races aren't really funny, b) the emcee's horrible puns were particularly unfunny and c) between the critical mass of small children in the barnyard area and the pig-race hecklers, we were about done with the LA County Fair masses.
We did make one final stop back at the Beer Tavern to sample some tiny cups of brew. (more here for the beer nerds) Some wine drinkers being idiots about the oh-how-icky-BEER they were lowering themselves to taste, but in general, it was nice to be back among our people. Then we left the massively crowded fairgrounds behind.
Our final assessment was: interesting, fun, glad we went, but..aaauuurrgghh! Sea of humanity!
And "funner" is still not a word.
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