When you live in New England, it’s practically your civic duty to attend at least one county or state fair during September or October. Since living in Maine, we’ve meandered up north to the Fryeburg Fair a few times, though probably not enough to claim we are regular fair goers. Last weekend, Spouse and I took the drive to Fryeburg, surrounded by spectacular fall colors on the way. Because the GPS loves to play little jokes on us in the name of saving time, it rerouted us at one point off of the main road and down what initially seemed like a quiet, picturesque back road. Within a half-mile we were no longer on pavement – we were kicking up dust and rocking along a dirt road like something out of a country song, only with a Ford Fusion instead of a pickup. By the way, you won’t be singing along to a country song on this kind of road. There’s no reception .
We made it safely to the fair grounds and found a parking space on someone’s lawn (this can be a profitable event for those willing to sacrifice their yard). Spouse checked the air filter and discovered that little critters are starting to build a nest now that there’s a chill in the air. Let that be a lesson to you – if your car starts doing the jig, check your filters before you call the mechanic. It might just be that you are the victim of critter condo construction.
A short walk along with the crowds and we were finally on the fair grounds. Let the eating begin. What is it about a fair that makes you hungry the minute you walk through the entrance? Spouse and I could have done a lot more damage, but because we weren’t absolutely sure the only issue was a clogged filter, we wanted to try and get home in as much light as possible, which gave us only a few hours of fair time.
Upon arrival, bacon hot dogs called out to us, especially when we saw what they were charging for the cheese steak sandwiches we were originally in line for. For the most part, we walked in and out of various buildings and past vendors and we behaved ourselves … until we decided on dessert. When we first arrived, a man who noticed we had a map of the grounds asked if we knew where the giant donuts were. Really? Giant donuts? No, but we sure as heck were going to find them. We did, and they were giant – in fact, giant enough to split one, which sounds very health conscious. Hah. Not really. We were simply saving room for – drum roll please – the deep-fried Funny Bones that were almost directly across from the donut stand. One of the fun things about fairs is that even if you don’t like crowds (and I don’t), you are apt to hear some pretty funny comments from others trying to maneuver through the throngs of people. I happened to hear a young woman comment, “The problem with these fairs is that everyone’s wearing the same hat.” She wasn’t the only person searching for someone. A man walking by me was responding to someone with, “A million people here and you want me to find one?”
Yes, it did seem like a million people, but we were all there to enjoy that wonderful fall fair environment without a rush. It’s one of the best things about fall in New England. That and deep-fried anything. — Janine Talbot is adjusting to her empty nest in southern Maine with her spouse of 32 years and two and a half cats. She can be reached at janinevtalbot@gmail.com.
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