Remembering at Capital Ex
I went for the corndogs. Within an hour of stepping off the train and onto the Capital Ex fairgrounds, I had demolished two “Big Dog” corn dogs. TWO. That’s twelve dollars of deep-fried, cardiac arresting beauty that I don’t regret in the least. I was tempted for a third, but alas, my conscience called me back. Back to watching the shoe-gazing trick bicycle riders go through their motions. Back to the ridiculous “shopping” opportunities in the AgriCom – snake oil salesmen a-plenty. Back to the three dollar, 1/2 liter of water that would cost less than a buck in 7-11. Back to my childhood memories of this fair: Spending $60.00 on rigged games to get a stuffed toy worth $10.00, buying cotton candy and putting it in Rhiannon’s hair, sliding down that big slide on a ripped gunny sack, going on The Rainbow while exceedingly intoxicated, hitting the Ferris wheel with my Dad who was so patient in waiting for me to get up the courage, and eating stolen sausages-on-a-bun with my co-workers from the track. Capital Ex is simply a new name for an old tradition. A cheesy, over done, contrived, and ridiculous tradition. A tradition that I am glad exists.