Consider the Fairs

County fairs: the single most American-esque event held way too many times more than I’d like. The deep-fried, diabetes-filled elephant ears, the chemically-dyed sugar balls more commonly euphemized as cotton candy, the deceiving smell of the overly buttery popcorn, and the list goes on. We cannot forget about the rides that are on the verge of breaking down any second and the parents screaming at their children to stop running away from them, worrying that they’ll get lost in the crowd. And of course the workers, forced to put on a smile on their face in front of the fair-goers but miserably failing, saying “Step right up!” in the most monotonous and dull voice imaginable. But yet we, as Americans, still go to every single fair, wait in every single line, and wait to try every single food item, somehow tolerating the screams of the sweaty little children. Personally, I have never understood the preferences of society today. The thought of consuming all that food, then then taking whirls around rollercoasters equates to nothing but mere nauseousness. However, I admit that I too go to Troy Daze repeatedly, year after year. The exact deceiving smell I mentioned earlier lures me in every year; despite this, every year, I leave feeling the same way. Why exactly are we continuously attracted to this American custom? Do we genuinely enjoy going to these fairs, or is it just an excuse do get out of the house for a day and enjoy company with friends? “I really am confused” (Wallace 64).