My husband and I recently spent a Friday at the Oregon Country Fair. For those of you who are fortunate enough to have never experienced this event, I'll describe it for you.
The Country Fair is a huge "alternative" fair where people in costumes, people in regular clothes, and people who walk around in nothing more than body paint and a thong all intermix while listening to music, learning about alternative energy and recycling, and angrily rejecting capitalism in the form of spending millions of dollars on arts, crafts and food. This is a place where people can embrace their inner freak and show it to the rest of the world.
I will freely admit that my inner freak and I are not normally on speaking terms, unless a fair amount of wine is involved.
So, I was apprehensive at best when my husband, who is apparently repressing his inner hippie, decided that we should all go to the Country Fair. My concerns were twofold. First, I am NOT a hippie. I'm a registered Republican. I don't smoke "herbs," I don't believe we're causing global warming, and I don't like Barak Obama. I figured I'd stick out like a sore thumb.
Second, the Boy is at that stage where the sight of mere underpants is enough to send him into gales of giddiness. I could only imagine what half naked women and men in skirts would do to him. I predicted he'd begin speaking like Beavis and Butthead cartoons, pointing and saying "boobies" over and over and laughing his little head off while I attempted to silence him by offering to bribe him with some frozen soy non-dairy ice cream substitute.
Needless to say, I decided to loosen up a bit by drinking the better part of a six pack of Mike's Hard Lemonade in the fair parking lot. I got a styrofoam cup, ice and a straw from the place we had breakfast, and got busy. By the time we walked up to the fairgrounds entrance my inner freak and I were close to a breakthrough. Hell, my husband had to spend 15 minutes convincing me that covertly drinking in the front seat of the parked car in the parking lot was not actually a capital crime, and my life would not be ruined if I were caught, and the likelihood I would be caught was slim since all the available police in the area were probably already at the fairgrounds trying scare the fairgoers into waiting to light their joints and pipes until they were safely inside the venue. A 30-something woman with three kids and a styrofoam cup full of alco-pop were low on their list. So much for my life of crime.
I did get some really mean looks when I was spotted taking a giant styrofoam cup into the fair, but by that time, I didn't really care.
Anyway, once inside, we wandered around for several hours with the kids. They immediately began to voice the opinion that we had committed major false advertising, since there were no rides at this particular fair. They put themselves into Whine Mode, asking, "Where are the rides?" and, "How come there aren't any animals?" or, "What's that funny smell we keep smelling?" We had to appease and distract them by pointing out a woman in a very interesting and creative bee costume, and a dude who was wearing what appeared to be a ballerina tutu and superhero mask. When they realized that the woman wearing a butterfly costume, (body paint, bikini bottoms and some wings) was about as close to an animal as they were going to get, they ramped it up into Intense Whine Mode, which most human ears cannot withstand without medical intervention. In IWM, children can actually continue to whine after all air has left their lungs. And, in what should be a public service announcement for population control, all three children were able to whine in sequence, so there were no breaks between complaints. You almost couldn't hear the three-day drum circle drums over the noise they were making. I'm thinking of contacting the Pentagon and giving them audiotapes of IWM to be used in terrorist interrogations.
The Country Fair is a huge "alternative" fair where people in costumes, people in regular clothes, and people who walk around in nothing more than body paint and a thong all intermix while listening to music, learning about alternative energy and recycling, and angrily rejecting capitalism in the form of spending millions of dollars on arts, crafts and food. This is a place where people can embrace their inner freak and show it to the rest of the world.
I will freely admit that my inner freak and I are not normally on speaking terms, unless a fair amount of wine is involved.
So, I was apprehensive at best when my husband, who is apparently repressing his inner hippie, decided that we should all go to the Country Fair. My concerns were twofold. First, I am NOT a hippie. I'm a registered Republican. I don't smoke "herbs," I don't believe we're causing global warming, and I don't like Barak Obama. I figured I'd stick out like a sore thumb.
Second, the Boy is at that stage where the sight of mere underpants is enough to send him into gales of giddiness. I could only imagine what half naked women and men in skirts would do to him. I predicted he'd begin speaking like Beavis and Butthead cartoons, pointing and saying "boobies" over and over and laughing his little head off while I attempted to silence him by offering to bribe him with some frozen soy non-dairy ice cream substitute.
Needless to say, I decided to loosen up a bit by drinking the better part of a six pack of Mike's Hard Lemonade in the fair parking lot. I got a styrofoam cup, ice and a straw from the place we had breakfast, and got busy. By the time we walked up to the fairgrounds entrance my inner freak and I were close to a breakthrough. Hell, my husband had to spend 15 minutes convincing me that covertly drinking in the front seat of the parked car in the parking lot was not actually a capital crime, and my life would not be ruined if I were caught, and the likelihood I would be caught was slim since all the available police in the area were probably already at the fairgrounds trying scare the fairgoers into waiting to light their joints and pipes until they were safely inside the venue. A 30-something woman with three kids and a styrofoam cup full of alco-pop were low on their list. So much for my life of crime.
I did get some really mean looks when I was spotted taking a giant styrofoam cup into the fair, but by that time, I didn't really care.
Anyway, once inside, we wandered around for several hours with the kids. They immediately began to voice the opinion that we had committed major false advertising, since there were no rides at this particular fair. They put themselves into Whine Mode, asking, "Where are the rides?" and, "How come there aren't any animals?" or, "What's that funny smell we keep smelling?" We had to appease and distract them by pointing out a woman in a very interesting and creative bee costume, and a dude who was wearing what appeared to be a ballerina tutu and superhero mask. When they realized that the woman wearing a butterfly costume, (body paint, bikini bottoms and some wings) was about as close to an animal as they were going to get, they ramped it up into Intense Whine Mode, which most human ears cannot withstand without medical intervention. In IWM, children can actually continue to whine after all air has left their lungs. And, in what should be a public service announcement for population control, all three children were able to whine in sequence, so there were no breaks between complaints. You almost couldn't hear the three-day drum circle drums over the noise they were making. I'm thinking of contacting the Pentagon and giving them audiotapes of IWM to be used in terrorist interrogations.
I began looking for more liquid fortification, but they don't sell alcohol at the Country Fair.
And that funny smell?
I didn't inhale.
