Believe me, it isn’t hard (I know you agree if you read this blog regularly) to make a complete asshole of myself. Especially while thoroughly enjoying everything the great state fair of Iowa has to offer every August. It’s my favorite day of the year (aside from Christmas and my birthday, naturally) and I will be gracing the fairgrounds with my presence the day after tomorrow. Look out!
Wanna make an ass of yourself, too? Here’s how…
First start the morning off right with a freshly grease soaked corn dog.
Then take every photo opportunity that you possibly can.
Once your cheeks are tired from all of the smiling, stop and get a snack. Like cheese curds. And make it two orders because if you decide to share one, they’ll be gone in 32 seconds flat and you’ll be pissed but still go back and stand in the 24 person line for the second order. So just get two to start with, OK?
After gaining the first three of thirty pounds you’ll be packing on during the day, chase (rather, waddle) after the Fair Queen and beg for a picture with the beauty. All I could think about in the photo was how fresh and clean the Queen smelled, while she probably wondered why I practically had my head on her shoulder (I was trying to knock her crown off and dethrone her – because let’s be real. There’s nothing sexier than a bloated, short, blonde wanna be fair queen, is there?).
Because your crew chased after you while running down the Queen, they’ll be all hot and bothered. Instead of carrying a personal fan around the hot fairgrounds, just dump cold water down your back. This is especially a nice trick if you are wearing a white t-shirt (smarts run in my family).
Next up, drag your crew to the line longer than the opening of a Southern Chik-fil-A restaurant. Seriously, there will be about 231 people lined up to see a statue of a cow. Made out of butter. And it’s fantastic. But when you roll with me, you end up sneaking (maybe rather acting like you’re on the phone, looking for your buddy who’s in the front – oh, hey you!) your way up into the middle of the line for the one picture you’re going to snap but without having to wait the 35 minutes to do so.
The butter cow sighting will throw your appetite into a frenzy. So the next stop on the face stuffing train is a gigantic pork tenderloin (which is the equivalent to heavenly greasy goodness here on Earth).
Upon consuming the 42,657th calorie of the day, you need to sit on your ass and ride the Ye Old Mill, which is the Iowa State Fair’s oldest (you will immediately see why, as it seriously goes about .001 mph around in a circle) permanent amusement ride, which is intended for dating couples but I always like to be the third wheel and spoil the romance.
After ruining the romance on the Ye Old Mill, I find it enchanting to pose with the leftovers of what I have been consuming all day.
Which means I will most likely leave the fair looking like the largest boar in the state of Iowa.
What cures the “I’m getting fat blues?” An icy cold cocktail and a bedazzled cowgirl hat of course.
Once you’re back to feeling like your foxy self, it’s time to hit up the Midway full of carnies and rides that you’re not sure you should get on once you lay eyes on the dude who put it together upon arriving at the fairgrounds two hours prior.
But since you’ve had a cocktail (or three) you throw caution to the wind and hop on the double ferris wheel.
Except that after every member of your group turns you down as a tandem rider, you have to go alone and wait for another single rider. Which in my case is always the embarrassed 12-year-old boy who wants the world to swallow him up whole on the spot when I whip out my camera and start snapping pictures.
The whirl of the wheel and carrying your buckets of loot throughout the enormous fairgrounds will make your stomach start screaming for food again (duh).
Perusing for the last snack of the day may take a toll on you, realizing that the day of fun is coming to a close.
But once you’ve settled on a last meal of a corn dog, donuts, lemonade and a fried Snickers, life doesn’t seem so bad after all.
On the (what seems like a 65 mile) walk to the car, stop and gaze at the fireworks (like you didn’t just seem them a month prior for the Fourth of July) that end each day of the fair.
And with a tear in the corner of your eye, hang out of the sun roof and snap a blurry shot of the double ferris wheel you just rode, while ruining a 12 year old’s dating life for the next six years.
And that my classy friends is how you show your ass (or make yourself memorable – however you want to look at it) at the Iowa State Fair.
I’m available for tour guiding – but it will cost you. Probably a corn dog.
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