Being Frank

There are so many good reasons to visit the Alaska State Fair. In fact, there are so many good reasons, it's virtually impossible to cover them all in one visit. That's why I stretched my fair experience into three days this year. I themed each day to avoid the temptation of straying off course. I had an exhibit day, a people watching day and an eating day. They were all great.

Exhibit day was filled with giant vegetables, huge, smelly animals and more arts and crafts than you could shake a hot glue gun at. I also took some time that day to catch a couple of shows.

People watching day is always a favorite for me. I knew I'd picked the right day when I spotted the two young wizards leaving the fair as I arrived. One of the boys was sporting a purple cowl and a lot of dark eyeliner. Yup, I was in for some good people watching.

By far my favorite day is eating day, though. When I was a kid I used to like ride day the best. These days I get all the thrills I need from a giant elephant ear and a pile of fried whatever. In preparation for eating day, I went on a 24-hour Italian fast the previous day. That means I only ate lunch and dinner and limited my snacks to nine. Actually, I cheated a little if you count a slice of pie as breakfast, and if you count one little cheeseburger as a snack.

Anyway, when eating day rolled around, I was ready. You have to tackle eating day with a game plan. You can't just wander around and buy things that smell good on a whim. Fair food has to be eaten in a specific order unless you want to pay for it in spades later. Plus, each item is a natural lead-in to something else. For instance, you can't start with a cream puff and then gobble down a turkey leg. Unless you drink a beer in between, of course, but who's going to do that at 10 a.m.?

My game plan opened up with a frozen mocha. I wanted to keep it simple. It went down like a breath of silk, and set me up for something a little more substantial. Now, the inexperienced fair eater might think the next logical step would be something like a funnel cake or an elephant ear, but I've been at this a while. In a way, eating day at the fair is a lot like running a fireworks show. You've got to start with something loud and intense to make sure your taste buds are paying attention. I went straight for the barbecue pork sandwich, with all the sides, of course. I doused the steaming sandwich in three different hot sauces, added a fourth to the beans and sprinkled the whole thing with pepper juice. Good morning, Taste Buds! Don't mind the screams coming from ol' Mr. Stomach, he'll pipe down after a brat, or two.

By this time I was beginning to come up to speed. My girlfriend had joined me for the coffee, but she'd wanted something a little lighter to start the day -- "Maybe a scone, or something." I was thinking, "Yeah, right. If anyone at the fair is selling scones, they'll be dipped in some sort of cheese batter and deep fried in hog fat." She settled for the barbecue, but I think she was beginning to worry about eating day.

We stopped off in the 4-H exhibit just to let things settle a bit, and then it was back to Cardiac Avenue. One of the vendors is selling fresh-made potato chips that are swimming in cheese and garlic and God know what else. It was a good way to open up round two. I shared them with my girlfriend. She got six potato chips -- she snuck one. They were great when they came out hot and fresh, but they get a little greasy if you let them get cold. I recommend sitting on the ground right in front of the pick-up window and shoving the chips into your face with both hands. If you can down the order in less than two minutes, it's a little slice of heaven. Round two blurred into rounds three and four, and it's hard to remember everything in exact order. I do remember that we watched some African acrobats and some not-so-well-trained dogs somewhere in there, but not much else is clear. I know there was a turkey leg, two ears of corn, a burger, a burrito, a halibut taco, two cookies and various fried batter things drenched in goop or sugar along the way. I don't remember if I drank anything else. I do vaguely remember having to exchange lawyer's names when a vendor's finger got between me and a bratwurst. Once money has changed hands, the brat and everything connected to it belong to me. You'd do well to remember that next year, sport.

Anyway, sometime around 8 p.m. I'd bottomed out. I staggered toward the gate with grease dripping from my arms and chin. I think it was actually coming out of my pores. My stomach was making a lot of noise, but it wasn't the pained cries of earlier in the day. It was more like the subdued groan of an internal organ that has finally accepted defeat.

"Next year," my girlfriend said, "you can take Ressler and J.B. to eating day. I don't know if I'm more embarrassed for you, me or the poor guy with half a pinkie finger." She changed her tune when I split that cream puff with her, though.

Frank Ameduri forgot to try a fried Twinkie.