By Mark David Blum

Nothing better sums up my Day 2 experience than nicknaming the Fairgrounds as the Vomitorium. Whether due to heat, food, rides, or some combination thereof, there was no place I went on the fairgrounds today that I did not see someone puking their guts out. Young, old, nature was very indiscriminate as to whom it had doubled over in some corner shedding every ounce of their internal possessions.

It wasn’t just the vomiting. It seemed that ailments and sickness were the daily theme.

For my daughter, the most traumatic moments came early afternoon near the Bakers Chicken Coop. Sitting off on the lawn relaxing in the shade, watching the Fair go by, the yung’n and I were just chatting about life and the horses inside the building behind us.

In front of us came a woman pushing a young woman in a wheelchair. It was obvious that the chair passenger suffered from a debilitating muscle disease such as cerebral palsey. As if on cue right in front of us, the woman in the chair goes has a massive seizure, turns stiff as a board and rolls out of her chair onto the hot asphalt. Running over to lend assistance, I was told in no uncertain terms by whom I assume is her mother, that “it is OK” and she “has got it.”

Stepping aside but watching closely, the mother sat with the child on the hot asphalt in the sun for nearly half an hour until the child relaxed. Again refusing help, mother struggled to put her daughter back into the chair yet within a moment of having finally succeeded, the child had another seizure. On that happy note, it was clear the mother did not have things under control and so I called 911. My daughter wanted to keep moving. I had to explain to her that unlike certain folks who like to boat in Oneida Lake, the reality is that when someone is hurt and you are there, you do NOT leave them until help arrives. After what felt like hours but was probably about ten to fifteen minutes later, EMTs arrived and we were free to go. I pray both mother and child are doing well. I can only imagine the chore and devotion of love that goes into raising and caring for a child so disabled.

By no means am I comparing and I certainly am not whining, but I could not have a discussion of the wounded without tossing myself a purple heart.

While on barefoot patrol of the Horticulture Building, a State Trooper finally ran out of donuts to snarf down, stopped in his tracks, came back toward me, and in front of my child and everyone said, “Sir, please put your shoes on.” After a day and a half and nearly 200 police and security not caring one bit, some hall monitor to-rule cop finally had to be the party pooper.

Fine, so I put on my shoes. Within 30 minutes, I had a peel off blister on my heel. Off came the shoes again and it was to hell with them all. Can you believe it, this year, like years previous, the only time I suffer injuries to my feet is when I wear shoes. Next time you see me meandering about barefoot, at least have a band-aid before you demand I put my shoes on. Otherwise, medical necessity now requires me to continue my barefootin` ways.

With that and the soaring temperatures, the kid and I finally had enough. We bought up all the goodies she came to get and barreled on home. Of course, we managed to end up behind every “drive to rule” driver out there which made me feel like puking all over each of them.

*Sigh*, only ten more days and then its back to life and reality.