By Mark David Blum, Esq.
With Day 6 of the Fair in the record books, I can describe the day as being “green”. At times I was green with jealousy. Then at another moment, I came upon a man green with sickness. The skies were blue and the air was warm for a change. With great futility, I tried to stop the flow of green from my pockets and into the hands of vendors.
I was walking down the Midway mid afternoon and stopped for a moment to rest my aching bones. Standing next to me was a man who started to shake all over and his eyes rolled up into his forehead. Sliding down the side of the ride we were leaning against, he hit the ground. Immediately I called 911 to report a man down. I gave all the relevant information to the 911 operator and watched the man to make sure he was breathing. The operator said help was on the way. For reasons unknown and lacking understanding, the 911 operator wanted me to stay on the line with her as if I was the person injured. Making small talk with a 911 operator is not how I want to spend my cell phone battery and minutes and after a brief argument, I hung up. Meanwhile, the man fought his way back up to his feet and stayed that way for about a moment until his body started to shake violently and his legs would not support him. I held his arm and helped him down to the ground where he waited … and waited … and waited for help to arrive. After what seemed like a very unreasonable amount of time, paramedics on bicycles arrived. I told the man’s apparent wife he was going to be OK and left the scene. All I got from her was a look; not even a thank you. None was needed but would have been appreciated. As I walked off the midway and came upon the Pizza Fritte structure, I found out where all the State police were hanging out and better understood why nobody came right away when I made the 911 call. Cops and their donuts – hmpfh.
Speaking of cops – and I am big fan of the First Amendment, I saw yet another insulting license plate on a police car yesterday. “TALK29ERS”. Every year in the police parking lot, I come across a license plate or two that I just find totally offensive and wonder how a police department tolerates officers who think their “9er” plates are funny. For those of you who don’t know, New York’s Mental Health Law has a section “9.41” which empowers police to take custody of a person deemed a threat to themselves or others. Over time, that section of the law has taken on a life of its own in police jargon where they have coined the phrase “9er” as being a nutjob. It is a derogatory term thrown about casually when referring to a citizen disliked by police. When I see a license plate, as I do every year, that mocks or refers to “9ers”, it offends me and makes me growl in anger. The utter disrespect for society and the arrogance that lies behind the plate hopefully belongs to a green rookie. We hope that more seasoned officers would not stoop to such a pathetically low level.
Twice during the day I was green with jealousy as I saw children get to enjoy some great entertainment of which I could not participate. First, the Harlem Wizards are four guys out at the basketball courts who put on a basketball show. ‘Swoop’, ‘Skycam’, ‘Big Mike’, and ‘The Show’ are four ex college basketball players who act as though they are putting on a basketball show. In reality basketball has nothing to do with the show. Yes, they do a few drills that any college player would do in warm ups before a game. But these guys are great with the crowd and spend the majority of their show involving the audience and having fun with selected spectators. Playing games and tricks with ball handling, these guys were great at bringing in the audience into their game. What made me jealous was not being selected and not getting to play along. Of course the youngest smallest child they found was the overall winner of a tshit, poster, and a free Harlem Wizards basketball. If you have the time, this is definitely a show worth your time and money. (Its free).
Sponsored by one of the spa companies, one of the street performers who returns this year is a juggler, fireeater, unicyclist who is as funny as he is talented. His level of skill is unsurpassed and his ability to joke with and engage the audience is indeed worth the time. Again as before, I was green with jealousy as I was not selected from the crowd and did not get to participate in the show. Being a child at heart does not qualify you as a real child and children are the targeted class for these performers. One of the kids, Andy, did a great job playing straight man to the performer and got to choose between a balloon and a dollar as a prize for his efforts. The crowd loudly encouraged Andy to take the dollar over the balloon. The performer actually managed to convince a member of the audience to surrender a dollar which was given to Andy. As much as I doubted a street performer / juggler could hold my attention, I was very much impressed with how talented he is and how he held my attention riveted the entire time.
What I will never understand is the allure of the $1.00 potato. I can remember a time when the State Fair gave away free a baked potato to anybody willing to stand in line to get one. That changed over the years and the cost is now $1.00. What I do not understand is what is so important about that potato. Like the $8.00 a gallon milk that you can buy for 25 cents a cup, my only conclusion is that a baked potato at the State Fair is a mandatory must-do. The amazing part of the entire experience is the length of the line and the time people are willing to invest waiting to spend their dollar for that baked potato. Every day now at various points throughout the day, I have seen the line for the potato stretch half way to completely outside the building. I did not time the line but it had to take at least a half hour or more just to get the front of the line. It makes no sense and I am befuddled why folks would stand in line that long for a baked potato. Surely they can make one at home in 1/10 the time and for far less cost. The only conclusion I can come up with is that the people in line are green to the Fair and are unfamiliar with how expensive and time consuming is the potato gathering process. Maybe it is just eating a baked potato at the Fair that is the goal itself. (Guess what, I ate a baked potato, had my 25 cent milk, got a dinosaur sandwich, and paid $25.00 for an all-you-can-ride pass at the Midway).
Two sections of the fairgrounds have a strong aroma of vomit and you almost turn green and vomit yourself as you walk by. One is the short street as you leave the Cole Muffler Court and walk past the 93Q booth. The other is by the Himalaya ride behind the goat barn. I didn’t see any massive puddles of puke and the aroma has been around for several days. Methinks that the scent is coming from poor sewage flows and sewer gasses are coming to the surface. Either that or one of the vendors at each location is really making people sick.
All in all yesterday was a great reminder of what a good Fair day can be like and a reminder that soon enough, the green will be gone from the trees, a cold wind will blow, and the ground will be covered with white. Warm days and cold nights are the classic sign that Fall is coming. With six more days of the Fair, I am going to desperately try and hold onto the summer as best I can.
