Tuesday, July 12, 2011

More Memories of the Fair

It was impossible for any child to stand still or relax at the Fair. Our bodies were fueled by pizza, fries, soda and pure adrenalin. A combination that could keep any kid wired all night, only to pass out during the car ride home.

As we grow up our priorities and reasons to go to the fair change.

As teen years took hold, no longer did we go with our parents. The fair "scene" was more towards socializing , checking out what girls ( or boys, depending on your point of view) were there. You weren’t at the fair, the fair is where you happened to be at the time, everybody wanted to be cool.

With all the "hang" time, there was the opportunity to try a bigger variety of food. Besides pizza and fries, we now ate ribs, perogies, potato pancakes, corn on the cob, sausage sandwiches, and I am sure a few delicacies I’ve missed. Oh yes, how could I forget clams on the half shell, for the most adventurous individuals. You could always count on the fair’s food to cure even the most intense case of "the munchies", but that’s another story.

Rides became something to do as a joke, but secretly it was a way of acting like a goofy kid again, if only for a few minutes. If you were lucky, it was also a great way to be pressed up against a girl you liked and get away with it.

There were a couple of years when the drinking age was lowered 18 and there were still no beer fences. Scoring a few beers was always a top priority for the "middle" teen crowd. Beer was passed back from the bar into a sea of youths. The trick was to stay close enough to the bar to have a connection, but not too close as to draw suspicion. This is when everyone went to the fair. If your girl wanted to do a ride or two, the smarter guys did it early in the evening before they were full of food and beer. It was always funny to hear someone puked on a ride at the fair, as long as it wasn’t you.

Around this time is when I met a guy (who would turn out to be a life long friend), a fresh graduate from St. Cecilia’s school. An innocent looking cherub- faced fellow with a thick head of curly hair. To protect the guilty, I will refer to him as "Barrel".

Barrels’ mother was one of the ladies who stretched the dough for the pizza, and Barrel was a runner in the pizza tent. I ate many free pizzas’ that week. His best scam was going to the beer tent on his break and telling them pitchers were needed for the guys frying the dough. The pitchers of beer never made it back to the pizza tent. We would go in the street behind the game trailers and pass them around trying to get rid of the evidence as fast as we could. Our t-shirts were wet in the front from chugging too fast from the pitchers. I can still picture us staggering around with sticky necks and beer stained shirts. For one week we had more beer than we could drink. "Barrel" was sure a sly one, he proved his worth, and immediately gained our acceptance and respect.

After another year or two his mom told him he didn’t have to work the fair anymore. We tried talking him back into it, but he had enough. I was a year older than him, and by now could get served somewhat. So it was my turn to repay the favor, which I did gladly. We were still too young to drive, there were some long walks home when streets and sidewalks moved like they were carnival rides. When the neighborhood started to spin, throwing up was unavoidable. I don’t really remember any real trouble back then, except for a few natural born instigators on both sides of the law.

TO BE CONTINUED...

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