B-lining it to the corndog stand
Country folk from all 55 counties gathered today to bask in the barbecue aroma of the Lewisburg fairgrounds. Nearly every social class was represented. But most visitors had clawed up from the sinkholes of Appalachia; while a few climbed down from their ivory towers and met somewhere in the middle for a week of true country camaraderie. The Fair has everything the South has to offer. An exotic habitat that consist of Redman chewing tobacco, fried anything, ribs, ancient carnival rides and their equally deprived operators. As I got lost in the maze of farm animals and farm people I began to notice none of the carnies were talking. Just solemnly guiding the children to their seats. As if they had taken a vow of silence. I later found out from the ticket lady that the rider operators didn’t speak so the passengers wouldn’t smell the liquor on their breath. That was very eerie. Knowing half my life depended on the reliability of these rickety carnival rides and the other half on their drunken conductors.
Memories being made at the State Fair
A girl and her goat
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