Occurrence At The Dairy Barn

     In response to the other day's post on the Ohio State Fair my friend Karla posted the following on Facebook:
      Patti, what a wonderful trip down memory lane! Our family also took MANY trips to the
     Ohio State Fair. You included so many of our favorites here, only missing the Butter Cow
      and the delicious ice cream at the Dairy Barn.
     Busted.  I should have known I couldn't get away with doing a piece on the Ohio State Fair without giving the Dairy Barn - and especially the Butter Cow sculpture, one of the iconic, not-to-be-missed  highlights of the Fair - its due.
         Here's a good photo that I got off the internet,

...unlike the bad one that I ended up taking - of this year's Butter Cow tableau.
     Anyway, after my friend pointed out my omission I contritely returned to that day's post and inserted the photos I took in the Dairy Barn, only two, taken in haste and decidedly substandard, the reason for which I'll get to shortly,

...so that my chronicle of the 2017 Ohio State Fair would not be lacking that important feature so near and dear to the hearts of we Fair-goers, who must marvel, not only that such a work could be created in butter, but that we live in a society so well-fed that we think nothing of using 2,000 pounds of butter for a piece of art.

    In truth, though, I didn't intentionally neglect - before I went back and rectified the oversight - to give a shout-out to the Dairy Barn. However I think I must have done it subconsciously.  I think I must have been trying - subconsciously, of course, for, as I said, I would never intentionally snub the Ohio State Butter Cow sculpture - to suppress a certain event that happened that afternoon while I was in the Dairy Barn.
      It all began at the Dairy Barn ice cream counter, where, as pointed out by my friend in the above Facebook post, one can procure a delicious ice cream cone.
      Delicious, yes, and relatively  inexpensive in comparison to the price of most State Fair edibles, or so-called edibles.

     The price of an ice cream cone at the Dairy Barn was, I think, $3.50 for one scoop, and $6.00 for two scoops.
      But here's the thing:  the portions  are huge, "one scoop" in reality being three scoops smooshed together into one big scoop, as you might be able to perceive from this photo of Tom's scoop, already partially consumed in this shot,

...so that one wonders how the scoopers could possibly pile any more ice cream atop the already over-packed cone.
      That question could have been doubly begged in regard to my cone, a "single" dip of Cashew Pecan; because while Tom's dip of strawberry, as was the case with most of the dips cradled in the cones I observed in the hands of the Dairy Barn patrons around me, was packed into a massive globe, my ice cream, for some reason, was constructed more in the shape of a tower, the three stories of Cashew Pecan sitting one on top of the other.
      (In a later moment, while pondering the how, why, how, why of what happened, in a flight of imagination I pictured one possibly disgruntled member of the army of hustling, bustling teen-agers behind the ice cream counter taking a moment from the non-stop activity to whisper to his co-worker while piling my cone to a most precarious height,  "Want to bet this old lady drops this Cashew Pecan?"  However, I ended up heeding the counsel of Tom, who  sensibly advised me, "Don't blame the kid.")
       So anyway (now that you've already guessed the ending - the worst possible - of this story), upon receiving my cone it did occur to me that this Cashew Pecan high-rise did appear at risk of keeling over; still, I figured I could quickly lick it into shape.
       And I probably would have been able to, had I kept focused on the task at hand,  which shouldn't have been that hard, considering how  delicious - judging from the few corrective licks I ended up accomplishing - was the high-butterfat-content Dairy Barn ice cream involved.
      But, as is so often the case with myself, I got distracted by the sights around me, and was tugged by my relentless need to capture every interesting scene on the memory card of my camera.
     "Oh, let me get a shot the Butter Cow!" I cried as I dashed off from the ice cream stand towards the display.
     She's going to drop that ice cream,  thought Tom.
      I must say in my defense, if the ice cream had been better balanced, I'm sure it would have had the wherewithal to stay stuck onto the cone; because, though yes, I had momentarily forgotten about the cone in my hand as I pulled out and focused my camera,  the cone actually shifted only ever so slightly as I snapped the shot, a bad shot, it turned out,  as I was aware of the ice cream tumbling from its cone even as I snapped.

    My ice cream hit the floor and there was a moment of silence among the crowd around the Butter Cow, followed by a vast collective, "Awwwwwww,"  as the crowd realized that this poor elderly lady had dropped her ice cream.
     It was an excruciating moment.
     So excruciating that I lost sight of what should have been my next priority: getting a picture of it!
    Tom came hurrying over with a handful of napkins.  "Oh, I don't need those," I said petulantly, "it didn't fall on me."
      "The floor," he said, "we've got to wipe up the floor!"
      Right. 
      My next priority became to slink out of that place as quickly and invisibly as possible.
      It was only a few minutes later as we strode across the fairgrounds in a direction far as possible from the Dairy Barn, that Tom said, "Too bad you didn't get a shot of your ice cream on the floor of the Dairy Barn."
       "I know," I sighed, taking a lick of Tom's strawberry ice cream which he'd chivalrously shifted my way, "It's my biggest regret."

Reference:
https://ohiostatefair.com/butter-cow/