It’s both frightening and relieving how quickly my vacation is whirling to a close – relieving because in all honesty, I get twitchy these days when I stay in one place too long, and frightening because well, who really wants to think about how quickly a month can fly out from underneath you. Much of my time has been spent sleeping to be honest.
But, due to a sheer chance in fortune, I was in town for once – when the fair came to town.
You could somehow smell it before it actually arrived. Long before the midway trucks rumble by towards the tiny field and beach (okay, the beach isn’t tiny) , you could smell the fair. That unique mix of popcorn and sunscreen and cotton candy, it seems to come in on the air before the tents are set up and the parade starts.
I didn’t see the parade, though friends of mine walked it. Instead, I started out a few hours late, slathered on a layer of sunscreen that may or may not have done any good, donned shorts for the first time this season, gathered my hair into a high pony tail, and walked to the fair grounds as the parade was ending, meaning I occasionally had to dodge little kids with their faces painted like butterflies as they wheeled their besparkled bikes back home from marching the route.
The noise assaulted my ears almost a block from the fairgrounds, a joyous clash of laughter, screams from the midway, music from the brass band, and cries from the carnies.
You know the games are rigged, but somehow, you find yourself playing anyway – and in my case, walk away with a completely useless stuff penguin for your trouble. And even though fair food is terrible, it tastes better than anything you’ve ever eaten when you’re sitting on a waterside causeway with your best friend(s), stealing fries from their plate, feeling your skin bake in the west coast sun, and trying not to burn your fingertips because the mini-doughnuts are always too hot.
Ice cream is $3 for two scoops, but those two scoops are HUGE, and you have to rush to eat it before the sun wins the battle and things get messy. And somehow, even though you *hate* Katie Perry, it seems only appropriate that the cover band is belting out “California Gurls” while the mid-afternoon sun works its magic (“nothin’ comes close to the golden coast” indeed…California isn’t the only coast that could be called “golden”), and little kids are dancing their hearts out on the rented dancefloor.
The ride line ups are always too long, and I swear the rides get more and more rickety every year, but the Gravitron is always worth it (“If that’s it an’ that’s all, I’m gonna stick these guys to the wall”) – and the Zipper NEVER is (one day, but not this year). If you’re lucky and careful, your facepaint will stay on for the whole day.
When I was a kid the fair was run by a different amusement company, as is so cliche but true “it was better back then”. But I’ve not been in years, for a lot of reasons, mostly because of time, and not being around, and being broke.
And, as I’ve said before…well, maybe you can’t go back, but maybe that’s the point – sometimes you get to go back as a different person, and sometimes you *need* to.
For one shiney shiney…
Bright (summer) Blessings,
Shaughessy
This post made me smile. It’s the beginning of winter here now (not like any Canadian winter!) but your blog makes me feel like I’m much closer to the city of my heart.
I’ll be back in your neck of the woods come the fall, this time we’ll have to get the date right! But – for the record – Victoria misses you sweetheart, I hope you get to come back one day.