The great thing about growing up where I did was that the State Fair was held just north of town.
Every summer during the last week in August, the entire town would gear up to the onslaught of farmers, carnival workers, news people, 4-H kids and anyone else who was interested. Our State Fair was bigger than Christmas, New Year’s, the last day of school and the Fourth of July all rolled in one. They always said that we had the biggest midway of any state fair anywhere. Even though we lived in the city, my friends and I lived for State Fair week. It was like Disneyland coming to town.
I started to go to the State Fair by myself when I was about nine or so. It was easy enough to hop on the bus and take the short trip to the fairgrounds. Since I was so small, and because the security just wasn’t there back then, I could easily sneak in between animal trailers and carnival tents. If that didn’t work, I could always follow a family in and pretend I was with them. No one ever said a word. My mother was always working afternoons and nights, so she never missed me not being at home. I’d stay out until the fireworks show at 11 p.m., and then take the last bus back to my neighborhood.
The summer I turned 13, my best friend, Suzy and I decided we would go together. It was a blazing hot day, and we enjoyed the air-conditioned bus ride up Snelling. Suzy looked like a full-grown woman, so we were obviously going to have to pay for her. Besides, she wasn’t too smart and was so big that she couldn’t run fast if she got caught. We decided that I would sneak in, as usual. The plan was to meet by the booth where you could drink all the milk you wanted for a quarter. We only had about ten dollars between us, but a lot of the fun at the State Fair you didn’t have to pay for.
The first thing we did was tried to get our money’s worth out of the milk booth. Suzy drank about 15 cups of milk but I could only get down about five. My stomach felt bloated. Then we decided to hit the midway and go on a couple of rides. After the roller coaster and the Tilt-a-Whirl, I thought I was going to hurl up my milk. I sat down on the hot pavement trying not to throw up while Suzy threw a few dimes into some glass ashtrays. She wanted to win one, but she ended up just wasting her dimes, so we decided to walk around the rest of the fair.
For some reason, they wouldn’t give us any beer at the Oktoberfest tent. I was surprised, because I thought Suzy looked to be at least 20. It didn’t matter because I didn’t think I could hold a beer down the way I was feeling. Probably because of the heat, the milk and the rides, I was still feeling nauseous, and we walked slowly up Machinery Row as I tried to shake the sickness in my gut.
Suzy and I walked into the buildings and pretended that we were farm girls who were really interested in tractors and all the weird tractor attachments. I couldn’t imagine that a person would need so much stuff just to grow things, but I guess you do. That day we learned the difference between a round bale and a square bale, and the machines that made them. It was a whole different life than what I was used to, that’s for sure.
Then we went into the 4-H building and watched some animals being born. “Eww,” I said as a calf started coming out of the cow, and we took off. I didn’t want to be that close to nature. The pungent odor of horse manure didn’t help my queasy stomach, and we beat a hasty retreat. Horses are cool, but not what comes out the backside.
The food building was a much better bet. There were samples of jam to try out, and all kinds of cool gadgets. In my house, someone was in big trouble if the can opener wasn’t where it should be. We also saw a stand that French-fried every vegetable you could think of. They fried up onion rings, pepper rings, zucchini, tomatoes and mushrooms, even garlic. The smell was heavenly, and it was something you just didn’t see every day. I was lucky if I got a bowl of cereal for dinner. Next we found where they were judging quilts and hung out in that building since it was air-conditioned.
The sun was starting to go down, and Suzy wanted to go to the grandstand and hang out. Donny Osmond was headlining that night, and she had a crush on him. I thought we were too old for Donny Osmond, but you couldn’t tell Suzy who to like. She would twist your arm and hurt you. We couldn’t afford to get in to see the show, but you could still hear what was going on from the other side of the bleachers.
We picked out a good spot in the shade and sat there cross-legged with our cokes and cigarettes, trying to act cooler and older than we were. A lot of people were down there, trying to hear the concert without paying, and it was just like a big party. A guy came out of a trailer parked near the grandstand opening. He was probably in his twenties, had long hair, a dirty tee shirt and jeans. He was pretty to look at, but all sweaty, smelly and hot. “I bet he works for the show,” Suzy whispered.
“Nee-ya, nah,” I replied.
Tall, sweaty and handsome came right up to us. He looked down at us. “Got a cigarette?” he asked Suzy. She gave him one, and he lit it up.
“You girls wanna party later?” he asked.
“Sure!” Suzy piped up, really fast before I could say a word.
“I’ll be back out as soon as the show starts.” He looked at us both closely. “How old are you girls, anyway?”
“She’s 16 and I’m 17,” Suzy lied. I just sat there and listened, and nodded my head at the appropriate moment.
“You sure? You girls look awfully young.”
“Oh, yeah, we’re old enough. We party all the time.” As soon as he turned away, I told Suzy she was the biggest liar I’d ever known.
The roadie came out at half past eight, and both of us jumped up quickly. He had three beers and handed one to each of us. This time, he pulled a cigarette out of his tee shirt pocket. It was thin and not very round. He lit it up and took a long hit, and held the smoke in for what seemed to be a couple of minutes. After a while, he exhaled very, very slowly. Then he passed it over to Suzy, who did the same. She was amazing in her control. I didn’t think she had smoked pot before, but maybe she did. Then she passed the joint over to me.
As soon as I inhaled, I sputtered and coughed. It had a different flavor than tobacco, in that it was earthy and sweet. I sneezed and took a big swig of beer to settle down my throat. The next time it was my turn, the smoke stayed down longer, and by my third hit, I was smoking like a pro.
The roadie went back to the show. I don’t remember much about that night, and I certainly don’t remember what Donny Osmond sang. I don’t know how we got home. All I remember was that we were giggling so hard that we fell down in the street – a couple of times.
