STEVE SMITH -- What’s Up?

STEVE SMITH

What is it about the Orange County Fair?

You can eat a massive omelet for breakfast at the Sidewalk Cafe, scarf

down the world’s biggest Thai salad at The Yardhouse for lunch, and snack

in between. But by the time you get to the fair, you’re once again ready

to eat. And eat.

Barbecued beef sandwich? Sure, I’ll split one with you. In fact, if

you get one, I’ll run over and grab a 10-pound bun and some barbecued

corn and we can share those, too. And after we’re done, let’s get a

funnel cake. No, a cinnamon roll. OK, both.

And the midway. Oh, please. No one ever wins at those games.

Sometimes, I think the game operators give some flunky a giant Pooh and

tell him to walk around as though he won it in order to attract a few

suckers. But I know better. I once won a small doll after demonstrating

my skill at squirting water through a 4-millimeter hole from a distance

of about 8 meters. And it cost me only $42. But please don’t tell my kids

-- they think I’m a sharpshooter.

Besides, while I was dropping my dough, they were over with my wife,

Cay, throwing ping-pong balls into goldfish bowls from what seemed to be

as far away as Fullerton, so they’re not exactly high on the list of

savvy consumers.

So, what is it about the fair? Is it the rides? What is it about those

rides that makes otherwise sane people risk their lives and all their

loose change for the thrill of losing their gyro sandwich?

Our 10-year-old is no exception. It took her years to screw up the

courage to tackle Space Mountain at Disneyland, which has been there

forever and is safer than driving the freeway from here to Irvine. But

lead her to the fair and she heads straight for the Ripper or the Whipper

or whatever that contraption is called. Me? I’m standing firmly on the

ground, getting a headache from watching her twist and shout.

Then she heads for the flying seats. You’ve seen those. They’re

nothing more than retired ‘50s dinette chairs attached to a revolving

roof by 30 yards of fishing line. I get scared just thinking about it,

but not Bean. She wants to ride it twice.

Watching her, I marvel at the confidence of all these fair-goers

putting their faith in the hands of people and machinery that were not

even there just a few days ago. In fact, on Thursday evening at 6, I saw

two guys putting the finishing touches on the Ferris wheel. That should

give you an indication of how much testing is done before the fair opens.

Yet, to the rides we flock.

Here’s a tip: Catch the Ferris wheel around 9:35 and you may be able

to spot the evening fireworks at Disneyland.

Perhaps the fair is all about the vendors and their booths and

marveling at some guy’s million-dollar idea, the one he quit his

aerospace job to develop. He’s the guy who lights up like a firefly when

your toe accidentally crosses the line separating his booth from the

aisle. Crossing that boundary makes you a prospect and so you get to hear

the pitch.

“This work table folds down from your garage wall to give you the work

space you want, only when you need it.”

“That’s great,” you say, followed by the dream of free time to

actually make or repair something on a work table. The man obviously does

not have kids.

Then, of course, we have the animals. Pigs, sheep, chickens, virtually

any kind of farm animal available, is at the fair -- many of them

competing for a blue ribbon. Combine the animals with the “largest squash

competition” and you have a throwback to the county’s roots, before Walt

Disney put us on the map.

And did I mention the food? Oh, yes, I did. Too bad.

What it comes down to for most of us is how we know, consciously or

not, that the fair is in town for only 17 days, and if we want to get our

kicks on the just-built rides, see an hour-old chick or pork out on some

of the best food anywhere, we’d better get over there fast. It’s the

sense of urgency that Madison Avenue is always trying to con you into.

With the fair, however, the deadline is real. You won’t find a coupon

in the mail for this exciting offer once the fair is gone.

But let’s face it. The real attraction of the fair are the free

concerts. This year, I have only one word for you: Charo.

*

* STEVE SMITH is a Costa Mesa resident and freelance writer.