YEE HAW! WE HAVE DONE WENT TO THE COUNTY FAIR!

It is that autumnal time of year which means the Santa Cruz County Fair in Watsonville.  Tama jumped ship an hour early and we beat the rush, forked over five bucks to park and a few more to crash the metal detectors at the main gate and we were in the heart of the beast.

First off lemme say that I am a fair attendee born and bred.  Starting in a blanket and cloth diaper, I didn’t miss one in my home town until I was 26. A few blank years here and there, the odd very small town ones as I wandered the good old US of A on a motorcycle and I am still a fan.

Why this over-abundance of garish lighting energizes me while the same voltage in Vegas leaves me yawning and indifferent is a mystery… maybe if you could readily get corn dogs and deep fried burritos on the streets of Sin City?

But I digress…

A couple of things of note on the Watsonville turf.  For one, there was a very high profile for the long arm of the law… all armed and properly vested etc. but also hanging out with Smokey Bear or driving a 1947 John Deere in the tractor parade.  The other most obvious thing was a startling level of tidy.  Not quite Disney-sterile but an industrious bevy of worker bees staying well on top of litter and bagged trash and all the food vendors had bright and shiny trailers.  Somehow reassuring in the front of your brain but still somehow disquieting back in the dark recesses… where’s the one armed, toothless ride carny covered in prison tats?

A big part of what made this Fair more than just fair is that Watsonville is still very much an agricultural community.  Not used to be agricultural and not agri-business… agricultural.  A massive Youth /4-H/FFA display in the Harvest Building.  This year’s theme was Dancing With The Steers so lots of club displays featuring life size, paper maché (wait, is that one a cow? I dunno, could be an eel in a pearl snap western shirt…) cows waltzing in coveralls or break dancing or cloning John Travolta replete with white three piece and mirror ball.  On a sad note, one animated young bull lost a critical bolt or wire so that the arm that had no doubt been waving to the crowd had now fallen, still active, across his pants giving the impression of an endorsement for self abuse.

Then on to a whole section of children's handmade Veggie Critters, with koi made from bananas and an eggplant sedan with mushroom wheels (picture yourself on a boat on a river with tangerine trees and a marmalade sky…)  Of course this was day three so some of the cucumber birds were looking a wee bit sickly and the mushroom tires needed a little air.

Throw in the classic, permanently housed, model train layout, the chance to win a giant decorative boulder if you guessed it’s weight, some calf roping, and a woman made up to be anybody’s granny (if anybody’s granny strolled around on stilts using an eight foot high walker…) and you have a nice overview.  Now toss in an opportunity to have your photo taken while being kissed by a lovely, attention hog of a sea lion, pig racing, Mexican wrestling and the aforementioned vintage tractor parade… John Deere, Farmall, Oliver, John Deere… wait, what’s that sleek, art deco, red one? Does it really say Porsche on the side in polished chrome?

Oh, and did I neglect to mention fair food?  Not to worry, it was well covered. All the usual suspects in spades along with a BBQ stand that covered an easy 80 feet of frontage with an impressive row of oil drum grills buried under ribs, turkey legs, chickens and brisket.  I started with the obligatory corn dog and cold beer which cured the jones and allowed me to wander, past the garlic fries and alligator sausage, clocking my options before going in again.

And there, at the end, across from the redwood lumber display, I found my Fair nirvana in the form of a Twister Dog.  Twelve solid inches of pure beef tubesteak encased in a spiral-cut whole potato and tossed ceremoniously into a large vat of gurgling hot oil.  A dribble of condiments and a fist full of napkins was all that was needed to make Mr. B a very happy fella.

Fat, full and tired of walking, we retreated to the grass in front of the outdoor ampitheatre and the folding chairs we had placed there hours earlier, for 90 minutes of al fresco entertainment by Antsy McClain and the Trailerpark Troubadours.

And there you have it.  Good for another 364 days.