By Mark David Blum, Esq.

I am violating an oath. Last year I swore I was done with the Fair. Simply, I declared I had enough and vowed to not return again. I made my Mrs. promise to remind me that I was done with the Fair and that she should do all she can to stop me from going again. I was so sick of it that I ended up hospitalized.

Yet, the Fair is here and I stand perched and ready to break my vow. I cannot resist. Though another day must pass before it opens its doors, I can hear the music and noise, smell the food and critters, and feel the heartbeat of the Fair. If I knew anything about drug abuse, this is the closest I could come to creating an analogy. The Fair is in my blood and I crave the highs (and lows) that twelve days of playing Templeton can give me. Some pig, huh?

I shared my giddy anticipation about the Fair with a friend. We were talking about the radical changes at the Grandstands this year; including not having an act booked every night, and that there is going to be a professional boxing competition. I shared with my friend that I had found a way “in” and could mingle amongst the crowds, he stared at me dumbfounded and then confronted me directly. “Why don’t you just pay”? The answer was simple. Because I can. Of course I would never violate the law and illegally enter a concert. But knowing just the right folks helps a bunch.

Also despite learning of late that my ‘bad’ cholesterol was too high, I cannot help but wonder at what foods I will have gobbled down over the course of 12 days. If you think you can make a pig of yourself one day at the Fair, imagine how much of my arteries I can clog after the entire run of the Fair. Of course there will be the sausage, the steak, the fries, the dough, and a dozen as of yet undecided heart attack causing food. That too does not include the vast quantities of alcohol and other junk foods.

One downside to this year’s Fair is that I may be without my apartment. The magic secret is that I found a ‘home’ inside the fairgrounds. It was a place of respite and quiet, where I could relax and even sleep naked. (Hey, it gets hot). My spot was secluded and was a great place to duck out from the Fair, rest up, and get ready to get out there and do it again. I have written many of my essays in my little hideaway. This year, I may not be blessed and have to tough it out with the rest of humanity. I will miss my space. Crashing at Cole Muffler Court is just as easy.

The weather is predicted cool and sunny, with some rain. That is not a good outlook for attendance. Cool weather is appreciated when you are outside for hours and hours or when you have to carry a whiney assed runny nosed kid from place to place. I enjoy the cool days. Hot days are the ones that can wear you out.

So here comes the Fair and I am about to disappear. I change from my lawyer costume to my Fair costume and would not be recognized if I were standing next to you. After a couple of days, the Fair becomes a part of me and I no longer of the milieu. Instead I become part of the Fair. Those are the moments I appreciate most.

I also look forward to the interaction of humanity that sweeps through the fairgrounds. The stories they generate are fun to write. Even moreso, they are fun to experience.