My first trip to the Indiana State Fair

I thought Saturday was going to be like every other Saturday I've experienced so far. You know, kick back, drink a few juice boxes, watch a little TV, maybe do a little yardwork. How wrong I was.

The day started with my parents bursting into my room and snatching me from my crib. I can't really blame them for this. I would be excited to see me every morning too. But this was different--they started going on and on about the Indiana State Fair and horsies and piggies. Was it possible? Would this be the day that I finally got to go to the Indiana State Fair? The place where they deep fry everything, including Oreos, Twinkies, cheesecake, and pizza? As you can tell from the above picture (apparently, the theme this year was "tomatoes" -- I was a bit disappointed because I had been lobbying for the theme to be "parsnip"), Saturday was indeed the day I've been waiting for all year. What follows is an abbreviated photo essay of my day at the fair.

Our day started at the horse prison, where I met Gary (pictured above). "Why the long face, buddy?" I asked. Turns out that Gary is doing an eight year bit on some trumped up armed robbery charges. "Just do the time, man," I said. "It beats ending up in the glue factory."


Next, we saw some piggies. To be frank, I was unimpressed. I had spent a lot of time at the fair by the time we got to the pigs, and, at first blush, I couldn't really tell the difference between the livestock in the hog barn and the average fair-goer. This really bothered me -- it raised all sorts of logistical problems. What if a real pig got loose and just sort of subtly blended in with the crowd? The cops would never be able to find him! But then I started to look a little bit closer, and I figured out how to distinguish that average fair-goer from the inhabitants of the hog barn. It's pretty easy, when you get right down to it. If what you are looking at is wearing these: or eating this:then what you've got on your hands, my friend, is a genuine, bona fide fair-goer. If not, then you are most likely in the hog barn.


When we got to the delicious cows, I lost control of myself and tried to climb into the pen (see above). I was so close that I could almost taste the burgers! My mommy was doing her best to hold me back, but the thought of a big, juicy quarter pound burger gave me the strength of a dozen babies, and I managed to power my way into the pen. It turns out that the owner of the prize-winning cow was already in the pen, and she held me so I could get a good look at where my dinner comes from. She assured me that the beast was being sold that very evening and would, in all likelihood, be executed within 48 hours and on my plate in 72. Although I was sort of disappointed that I couldn't just have even a little nibble, I did take some comfort in reminding the cow of its place on the food chain.

When it was all said and done, I was pretty tuckered out. I dreamt of hamburgers, ribs, bacon, and pulled pork sandwiches all the way home. Isn't it great when you can associate a face with what you're eating?