what is it about the all american fair that excites me so much? the lights are a part of it, driving toward the fairgrounds and seeing towers of blinking lights, illuminating rides that will only cause certain nausea and panic attacks, screams and hysterical laughter. the rush of people, en masse, to the ticket booths, and the solidarity that comes with your fellows when you are ripped off for an $8 entrance fee that offers no fringe benefits. stands and stands, as far as the eye can see, bark elephant ears, turkey legs the size of infants, beef on a stick, chicken on a stick, corn dogs (on a stick, of course) lemon shake ups, kegs of soda, cotton candy and caramel apples, funnel cakes and italian roast beef. carnies taunt and tease passers-by, completely ambivalent to the outcome, only interested in turning your head to their shiny lights and stuffed nonsense. our first stop was a pink monstrosity named "extreme," which looked like any other twister ride, only it didn't stop at a 90 degree spin, it took us completely upside down and faster faster faster. in a moment of sheer uncontrolled velocity, there is nothing to do but pray the harnesses don't bust all at once, and scream.

my heart breaks when i write that i received no hooch, no stuffed scooby the size of a ten-year old, no matted teddy bear holding a ratty heart inscribed with "i love you" in peeling metallic letters, but i did enjoy the mother of all fair treats: a powdered sugar-coated funnel cake. spiral after spiral of thick dough poured int a vat of hot oil, fished out and plunked, dripping grease, onto a paper plate, then liberally dusted with confectioner's sugar, thrust out of a window at our awaiting fingers, followed by two ineffective paper towels. our eyes lit up like beacons at the sights, our mouths water like the big bad wolf's at the smells, out fingers tingled with delight to rip great chunks of dough away from its mothership. pure, unadulterated heaven.

two hours and $100 later, the four of us walked back into the real world, an emptying parking lot, past a drunk in a tie-dye, sitting on the grass helplessly while his car was searched by some unfriendly officer friendlies, and each one of us silently reminisced about times when the fair meant so much more than nostalgia, a broken diet and heartburn, about when it signified all that was good and right with the world: fried dough and tweeked out carnies.