J.J.'s Fair Blog

Numb me with rides, please

September 2, 2007

1:30 p.m.

Weather: Cloudy and chilly.

Parking spot: In-between Yellow and Purple. They are starting to make up spots in the lawn for people to park in.

Admission lines: Swift, I take the secret entrance for press.. tee-hee…

Trail pace: Slow-mo

I woke up and heard fair music in my head.

The music from the Flying Bob’s ride actually, which is a mix of carney accordion music and rock and roll.

I’m slowly losing it.

My press pass, looking all nappy and used up from pulling it out with filthy hands from it’s protective plastic sleeve, is missing.

I tear up my dirty car and find it between the seats with my CARRS receipts.

My coffee maker is slow and so am I.

I had an epiphany the other day when a strange lady walked up to me when I was standing in line to get a fake tattoo. She said, “You only have your family, ya know?” and then walked away.

I thought, ‘That’s it, I’m leaving.’

But then her message divinely inspired me to drop the pity-act and try to have fun. Try to find new things to keep my interest level up. Try to be grateful.

It’s not hard, it’s a fair for crying out loud. Everyone else is smiling and enjoying themselves. Well, almost.

The men’s room line is extended out the door into the newly formed smoking area in the food pavilion, where all four colored trails meet. Men are grumbling and once inside the stank called public restroom, the gossip is hilarious. ‘Never seen so many people’ and ‘My wife spent my retirement money in two hours.’ I start laughing out loud and it sounds as if I’ve lost it, cause it’s more of a cackle than anything else which draws some weary looks.

Today is ride day. I’m doing them all, or at least attempted too.

My tickets, not fronted by my employer, mind you, cost a pretty penny. One buck per ticket, three to four ticket rides, all lasting a duration of 2-3 minutes long. I eyeball the ride area and realize I’d better get a beverage if I’m standing all day. I look up and hear the shrill of a group of girls on the 1001 Arab nights ride. That’s the one. Did I mention I had yet another curly fry log with cheese? My stomach is flip-flopping, but I’m going anyway.

My friend Jeremy is all about getting dizzy, in more ways than one, so we get up to the carney who takes our tickets and slither into our little seats preparing for launch. All fair rides at the Alaska State Fair are designed to throw you around, either up and down, sideyways or round and round.

1001 Arab nights was a fun tummy tickler and, in my opinion, the most enjoyable ride for the four ticket price tag.

Now we get to the gaggers, as I call them, as these rides tend to just make you ill.

The Hurricane, designed to create a g-force so strong you’re unable to keep your head up right and as a result stress every single neck and back muscle trying, is a spin-o-matic nightmare. It’s been around for decades and still makes that “PSSSH-WOOSH!” sound as it raises ten feet up and down during it’s perpetual spinning dizziness. I hated it. But everyone else seemed to enjoy it, so maybe I’m getting crabby here.

Same goes for the “squirrel cages,” Gravitron and that 1956 throw-up pinwheel one that strangely dropped from four tickets to just three over the last year. All in all it took three hours to complete the ride circuit and my head will never forgive me. Strangely, I had a blast.

On the approach to the end of fair days, I must say, finding new things to peak my interest has not been tough. My attitude, rough at times with peak moments, has remained fairly positive.

I’m a stranger to fun with the masses, changing slowly.

I was smiling and enjoying myself, again surrounded by people I loved and running into those I never planned on seeing.

That’s always a treat.

I’m a little sad tomorrow, Anchorage Daily News Day at the fair (whatever), is the last day. But I’ll lose ten pounds, get more sleep and begin my regular day-to-day operations again. Yeay for the fair!

Contact J.J. Harrier at 352-2269 or valleylife@frontiersman.com.