By Mark David Blum

A few final disconnected thoughts about the Fair.

First, my State Fair diet resulted in a loss of eleven pounds. To the best of my recollection, I ate the following foods: sodas, soda, and more soda, philli cheese steak sandwiches, hamburgers, hot dogs, French fries, fudge of various flavors, stale popcorn far too often (but a vig is a vig), cotton candy, pizza, chicken, fruit, coffee, jerk chicken, roo, gyros, strawberry slushies, wine slushies, shots of rum and tequila, apples, bagels, licorice and various candies, mullatta, meat, and plenty of American and Caribbean coffee.

Second, if you are going to market free range chicken and eggs, as some young entrepreneur did by gate 2, at least have real chickens in your display. ‘Free range’ implies organic, humane, and non-toxic foods. Every day I walked by the display and every day there were two plastic hens facing off in the cage and every day I suggested to the vendor he needs real chickens and not plastic ones if he is going to market free range chickens. He gave me that “huh whuh” look each time. Too bad because the young man nesting forever in his chair and never engaging the public probably had a college education and really stood for a good cause.

Third, if you are going to walk around in a ten foot tall blown up caricature of a soldier, make sure you have someone on your six. At one point, some kid got down on his hands and knees behind the ten foot tall blowup caricature of a United States soldier and a second kid was about to push the soldier over. But-for the hard glare of a lawyer, another one would have fallen.

Next, while sitting around waiting for my new favorite band Emerald City to play, a man about as drunk as you can possibly be and still remain on your feet, staggered on over to where I was sitting on the edge of the stage (told you, I was born to be a rock star). Speaking with the wonder and grace of a staggering slob, he went over the top complimenting me on my performance. He loved me in Oswego and remembered me from there. Obviously I corrected his misunderstanding and said I am not with the band.

“Oh, that’s OK. I don’t care. I will be back in a few minutes. I need a few more beers.”

A handful of minutes after Emerald City hit its stride, my friend returns and how he is still on his feet baffles me. He could not have used his hands to break a fall as each was holding a beer. Starting out at the front of the stage, he moved on over to near where I was, approached the six foot tall speaker as if it were his life long love, and began to stare at the music coming therefrom. That’s all he did for about an hour.

Next, I think the machine of the fair belonged to the straggly blonde woman who went zipping by me as I sat dying in the mid-day sun in front of one of the rides. This is the New York State Fair; the showcase for the best and brightest that is our state. I saw bicycles, mopeds, bipeds, and those stupid two wheel whatchamacallits. None of those impressed me as much as the ingenuity that went into building a motorized ice chest.

Honestly as I live and breathe, flying by me went a normal size family ice chest, on small wheels, with a tiny presumably battery motor in back and a high scooter type handle bar. How perfect is that? Why walk when you are too drunk; drive.

And finally, one last boo and hiss to Gwen’s Grill in the Village. Sistah, if you gunna be sayin you be sellin da beef ribs on da menu, and you knows how much me loves dem Jamaican beef ribs, then please me stop teasing by everyday sayin on de menu dats you got de beef ribs but when I be wanting some to stop me hunger and come up and offer up me hard earned five dollars, you say no, no beef ribs today. Twelve days and me no gots ribs. Sad. Dei Oh.