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A teaspoon of whiskey from every bar in town.
That’s not what I said, although the reaction has been the same as if…What I said was “I want to eat my way down the Midway.” I do not want to toss corny dog trailers and fried butter vendors into the air. I do not care to spin all the cotton candy, green, pink, and blue, into one sugary ball and roll it past a goldfish in a bowl that will be won and carried home, named Elvis and live for one year. I wouldn’t dare throw up smoked turkey legs pretending to juggle- though be advised, if you decide to ride, their greasy effect is not subtle. I do feel crazy when diners are too lazy, squirting mustard and ketchup from big jars of condiments all over fries and corny dogs, letting it drip and mix, – just too icky. Please clean it up quickly.
Don’t blame the hot dog rolling on a stainless log or the “fresh” corn bobbing in a watery bog. Shirts and shoes required for service. I won’t pull the plug at Steak on a Stick but at another fair it made me sick. It’s just a Middle- Eastern kabob grilled for the mobs. Fresh kettle corn!? I’ll fight for the first bunch of that buttery, warm, sugary, salty, crunch. Fried twinkies and snicker bars won’t earn my attention.
But I’m headed for detention when I unhook the little cart frying funnel cakes. Will I make it through the gates? I did not plan for this sudden escape. And someone thought I would be trouble. All I wanted was to take a walk down the Midway, have a bite of this and that and watch other people do the same. Could it be the powdered sugar on my hands and face? Funnel cake larceny has gotten the best of me. I won’t give them my real name. What will a respectable woman do?
signed,
a woman who is not trouble as long as she gets a funnel cake and a Corny Dog
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