Pony-sized dogs trained to stop at a single word uttered from a boy nearly small enough to ride them. And the smells. Popcorn elevated to gourmet-level status by virtue of being cooked in a giant kettle. Curly fries piled so steep that the ketchup turns into an avalanche as it slips down the slopes of kinky potatoes. And hamburgers piled high with fried onions and dripping with grease and tasting like a million dollars would taste if it were edible.
Fairs are the place where the average is turned into the extraordinary.
It's where ice cream and hot dogs come on a stick and corn is served in the husk and cotton candy looks like a hunk of fluffy blue sky captured for the sheer pleasure of mere mortals. Fairs, it seems, are the last bastion of free enterprise, the only place in America where deals are routinely dickered by buyer and seller and the manufacturers' suggested retail price is written in invisible ink. And the closest thing to violence in the entire entertainment lineup is a cowboy chasing a steer with a rope. Go to a fair. Chances are the only Dirty Harry you'll encounter will be a small boy with a prize pig, but it'll still make your day.