August — State Fair

The anticipation mounted as I ascended from the tunnel separating the parking lot and the fairgrounds.  The pace was plodding; the large crowd ahead of me, unhurried. And then, there, in the light ahead, the view opened.

The Sky Glider, an aerial chairlift, shuttled patrons above the unfolding scene in brightly colored seats. A food truck advertising “Fresh Fried Veggies” caught my eye. I pondered the slogan. A massive Ferris Wheel turned in the far distance. Music popped from multiple directions.

It was August in Wisconsin, and that means State Fair.

Just days earlier, this festival was voted the second best of its kind in the country, barely losing out to neighboring Minnesota. It was the 175th anniversary of this treasured tradition. The first was held in 1851, an entire decade before the Civil War and roughly seven generations ago.

With much ground to cover, our first plan of attack was to partake in Sporkies and Drinkies, this year’s unique food creations. Birria Flamin’Bombs, the Sporkie winner, were enjoyed by my son. The pickle-flavored slushie, not so much. I am still questioning my decision to take a second sip. We both passed on the Bugged Out Frozen Cheesecake On-a-Stick, “a creamy dessert, dipped in chocolate, and then covered with crunchy crickets and worms.” The pickle slushie was enough culinary adventure for one day.

Next it was off to the Ag-Village and the Piggly Wiggly Swine & Goat Barn to observe the blue-ribbon-winning occupants. Upon entry, all senses were stimulated, especially olfactory. The “Pig Showmanship” competition was underway with teenagers parading their prized swine in the ring, trying to impress the judges. I imagined a version of this event taking place in the 1850s.

With so much to do, we didn’t stay long—the famed cream puffs awaited. A symbol of the fair since 1924, these whipped cream-filled pastries are a crowd favorite, judging from the line that snaked around the dairy building. While waiting, patrons witness firsthand the assembly-line production, a process that produces more than 350,000 cream puffs during the fair.

The wait was worth it, they didn’t disappoint.

We continued weaving across the grounds as carnival barkers encouraged the crowd to shoot a basket or toss a ring. Children tugged at their parents’ sleeves, pulling them toward the giant slide, the tilt-a-whirl, and a chair-swing carousel.

I watched the crowd. There was a lack of uniformity. Bucket hats commingled with concert shirts; European soccer jerseys with cow-print shorts. There was no visible urgency. Some carried food and drink, others pushed strollers; the beer gardens were standing room only. If ever there was an “everyman’s event,” this was it. On this day, seemingly every version of Wisconsin had gathered in the same place.

After a few hours, our fill of fair cuisine, and more than enough August sun, we made our way back toward the tunnel, exhausted. The Sky Glider continued its journey uninterrupted; fairgoers carried their “to go” boxes of cream puffs; the music still popped as the vendors continued to sell their wares.

I thought again about 1851.

Sure, it was different back then, but I wondered how much. There certainly were animals and food. Vendors likely sold their goods. Families traveled, some for days, from around the state. Back then, Wisconsin simply came together. On this day, we were doing the same.

Retracing my steps back through the tunnel, I took a final peek over my shoulder. I had taken my turn at the State Fair.