Good Fair Karma, Part 1

    If anyone is every looking for Tom or me on the first Saturday of  August, know that, save a cataclysmic turn of events, you will find us savoring that yearly slice of Ohioana set in the heart of downtown Columbus:        
     The Ohio State Fair.

     Though we are the most stalwart of Fairophiles and have seldom missed a State Fair for the 38 years we've lived in Columbus - even those years when we were dragging around a passle of  babies, toddlers and little kids and, back in those pre-restroom changing station days, had to change diapers on the grass - this year's was an especially auspicious Fair experience.
     Now, a day at the Fair generally starts out with the requisite waiting behind a long line of cars to the entrance gate where one pays the parking fee,  then following the line to the vast parking lot, then parking, then walking from the parking lot to the closest shuttle stop, then waiting for the shuttle, then riding the  shuttle, as we were doing here in 2014,

...to the admission area, then standing in a long line to the admission gate, as we were doing here in 2015.

     But this time, after we'd paid our parking fee and while we were waiting behind the line of cars to the parking lot, a fair worker came up to our car, - why our car?  Who knows? -  asked us to give her our admission fee, then waved us out of line and directed us to an alternate route that led us to a practically empty parking lot, behind what appeared to be some secret back  entrance for a special few which, for some reason we were chosen.
        We chalked it up to some good Fair Karma.
    This secret entrance brought us in through the midway at the back end of the Fair,

 ...which was fine; we just started at the back end and worked our way forward,

...past the midway rides,

...and the worst food for you on the planet.

    Now granted, wherever you are on the Ohio State Fairgrounds you’re never far from the worst food for you on the planet,

…but heart of it all, the true mother lode of  the worst of the worst of all possible stuff you can put into your mouth has to be located along the Midway.  

    As for me,  the siren song of a bratwurst loaded with peppers and onions, accompanied  by a  bucketful of those hot shoestring fries that everyone strolls around with,

...never ceases to call to me,  though I generally resist.
     But the call  of those wicked delights is nowhere near as compelling as the call of the funnel cakes, big circles of fried dough topped with powdered sugar or fruit,

​...or worse.

     Every year as as I pass by the ubiquitous funnel cake displays,

  ...I think, someday, someday.
           This time as I stood mooning over the display case the friendly young man  behind the counter asked me what I’d like. 
     “Well,”  I replied, “Someday, when I’m so old that I don’t have any more hoots to give about my weight or how I look,”  I swept my hand across the display case, "I’m going to eat every one of these.” 
     The young vendor, wise beyond his years, said, "But the Fair is the place where you're supposed to eat these."
     I thought he made a good point but I sighed, "I know, but all those calories..."
     "I'll tell you what,"  he said, looking so eager to please, "I'll make  a little snack-sized one for you." 
     "Oh, wow,"  I said, impressed by his kind solicitousness, "I'm so tempted!"  I really was.  "But let me eat lunch first and I'll think about it."
       To be continued...