Lake County Fair: A Sensory Contradiction

After living in the Midwest for six years, I attended my first county fair. I had been to festivals and small events, but never anything of this scale. Such a cross-section of people, and such an odd mixture of everything. It was all competing in my mind; my brain working to process it all.

I smelled smoke, corn and sweetness. Oil mixed with sugar mixed with shit. My stomach can't handle the barn smells, I look around and see people eating in the stands. I guess their stomachs are a bit stronger than mine.

Callers for carnival games and rickety rides. Win your sweety a stuffed monkey. Callers for sweet corn, fresh fried anything, buy one get one pork sandwiches. I'll take a pork chop. Hey look at that pig race.

I saw hipsters, awkward  gothy teens, and bingo participants. Tattoos in crowds with handmade jean skirts. Visible bra straps and orthopedic shoes.

Red and white striped tents. Yellow and white striped tents. Blue bins and Port-o-Potties. Dirt.

I heard horns sounding, washboards being scratched and a pulsing thump.  Cocks crowing, babies crying, I can't tell which was which.

Status is knowing where the real bathrooms are.

I can't wait until next year.