I left pretty early this morning and got there at around 8:30. It was already packed, and traffic in that area was a nightmare, but it was worth it. I got my Space Tower fix in right away.
|The Midway, with Minneapolis in the background|
Oh, I would never eat this abomination myself. It looks like a corn dog from Hell. Sweet, sugary, cinnamony hell. It looks like the kind of thing your jerk college friends would pressure you to eat on a dare, and you'd do it, just to say you'd eaten butter on a stick, and then you'd spend the rest of the night crying on the toilet, harboring deep doubts about the goodness of God. I ate a stick of butter once when I was six and puked it all over my grandma's guest bed an hour later, because I was six, and stupid. At twenty-six, I like to think I know better now. I just wanted a picture.
Alas, it was only at the Iowa State Fair, so I didn't get my picture. I also realized why I don't live in Iowa anymore. I did, however, see lots of fish in the fish pond,
and saw Ron Schara and Raven at the Northwoods Stage (you probably only know who that is if you're from Minnesota). Then, I hopped on one of those skylift things to take me back toward the entrance, because I was out of cash now and wanted to beat feet before I decided to start writing checks. The skylifts are a godsend if you're lazy and don't want to walk a long ways, but there really is no way to ride those without wincing every time the cable goes over one of those pylons, or imagining how much it would hurt to plummet 40 feet onto cement should the car pop off its cable.
|Every home needs a chainsaw carving of a bear|
My final stop was the Miracle of Birth Center. Because as tough and stoic as I like to consider myself, nothing turns me into a cooing, giggling little schoolgirl quite like little baby newborn goats.
Later that evening, homework done and with nothing good on TV, I got my fishing tackle and went out to the little pond back behind the apartment complex. I'd heard that there were perch in it, and wanted to get rid of my remaining waxworms, but as soon as I got out there, I nixed that idea right away. We'd had all that flooding last month, and that pond had at one point covered up most of our parking lot. I also remembered seeing on the news that it had flooded the park upstream, including the two Porta-Potties shown conspicuously laying sideways in the water. The pond was ringed by a thick layer of duckweed, in addition to the empty water bottles and beer bottles bobbing in the muck, and I decided that there were better places to fish than this two-acre petri dish of fecal coliform and criptosporidium.
(Sigh) Maybe Long Lake tomorrow.