Fair Game

Hello World, Happy Labor Day weekend! Here's hoping that you will have the opportunity to rest from your labors, and enjoy the last long holiday weekend of the summer season, before getting back to the grind as September looms on the horizon. Normally I would take this time to warn everyone about the impending specter of back-to-school, but as anybody on FaceBook can attest, we've already long since discovered pictures posted from our friends and relatives far and wide, where their children, grandchildren, or any old friendly youngsters were summarily marched back to school already, while it was still technically August, and not even after Labor Day, thanks not. I can tell you that never used to happen back in what we laughingly refer to as "the good old days," although in fairness, our old friends the dinosaurs have pointed out that fire might have been invented a whole lot sooner if it did, not to mention the wheel, and they could be onto something there. The previous weekend, we decided to take a trip down Memory Lane, and revisit the venerable Dutchess County Fair in Rhinebeck, still going strong since 1845, where we hadn't been for several years, and longing to give it another try. Our friends from the Albany area were up for a rendezvous and hike around the fairgrounds, so we met at the Eveready Diner in Hyde Park for brunch to kick things off. The day could not have been nicer, and the weather could easily have won awards from just about anybody, with the possible exception of our old nemesis Comrade Mischka at the controls of the Kremlin's infernal weather machine, no doubt. After a delicious meal, we braced ourselves for unrelenting traffic to the venue - which we remember from previous visits and have been stuck in, often at great length, time and again - but were pleasantly surprised, if confused, at the lack of any congestion along the way, and we arrived at our destination without a hint of trouble. It was almost 10 years since our last foray in fair-land, and not much had changed that we could tell. The vast grassy fields were a sea of parked cars, as always, the fair was crowded with merry-makers, and there was so much to see and do, it's no wonder that they take six whole days to cram everything in. Of course, there's the usual carnival rides and midway attractions, plus livestock exhibits, horticultural displays, canine demonstrations, vintage farm equipment, talent competitions, arts & crafts, a dizzying welter of vendor booths, educational or entertainment options of every sort, and more food than you could shake a (fried-Twinkie-on-a) stick at, and that's not just the cotton candy talking, believe me. We started out in the exhibition halls, which are some of the only permanent structures at the fairgrounds, and wandered through the seemingly endless aisles of merchants selling everything from the daintiest hand-made jewelry to the brawniest trailers for your semi, and everything in between, I dare say. There's always interesting things to see on all sides, from the tried-and-true to the newest-of-the-new, and some stuff that can only make you shake your head and wonder about the future of humanity, at least if this is any indication. Anyone can tell you that browsing through a capacious and motley cornucopia of paraphernalia (which could be described as the canvas equivalent of window shopping) is hungry work, and we were soon scouting about for some snacks to tide us over. Fortunately, you can't take two steps without tripping over food at a fair, much of which is only to be found at fairs to start with, and we were soon munching funnel cakes, soft ice cream, and fried Oreos to our hearts' content. Unlike previous years when the inhospitable weather conditions or overwhelming crowds made it impossible to perambulate the whole complex and see everything there was to be seen, this time we pressed on with gusto and enthusiasm, and determined to drink in every last drop of what the fair organizers provided in the way of features, exhibitions and attractions, according to their helpful brochure. In the end, I'd say that we accomplished our objective, and more than got our money's worth out of the experience, although we were sorry to miss what the brochure identified as their "Chicken Clucking & Rooster Crowing Contest," which was only happening on Sunday, and more's the pity, I'm sure. Of special interest was Century Museum Antique Village, full of items from the 1800's, such as tools, machinery, carriages and household goods, plus mannequins dressed in period clothing - and all in such lovingly preserved condition that you couldn't help but feel you had actually stepped back in time to see them in their prime. Admittedly, it was a bit jarring to see people taking pictures of these antiquities with their cell phones, but the dinosaurs will tell you this is what they call progress, and I ought to know. There was no lack of vendors hawking their wares at every turn, in just about every conceivable category a person could possibly desire, as if the national economy was booming, and products were just flying off the shelves to the extent that even the great outdoors couldn't contain them any longer. Unfortunately, after we tramped the fairgrounds from one end to the other, we could only come to the inescapable conclusion that what we fondly recalled as a mainstay of the fair, the curiously fascinating Army surplus tent, wasn't anywhere to be found anymore, nor had anyone stepped in to take its place - and where disappointed fair-goers were expected to find their decommissioned helmets, canteens, gas masks, and hand grenades is a complete mystery to me, I don't mind saying. I was on an assignment from The Flag Brigade, and was hoping to snap up a new patriotic finial for the top of one my flagpoles, plus a replacement New York State flag, so I could finally retire the ancient one that had been in the family for untold decades, now reduced to nothing but shreds and tatters, and not fit to be seen in public at this point. Alas, The Flag Brigade was destined to be thwarted in their efforts, but not from lack of trying on my part, heaven knows. And speaking of being thwarted in the effort, what happened next was certainly one for the books, and that's not just a lot of combat boots and K-rations, by golly. After we had seen just about all the fair had to offer, and it was starting to get late in the day, all four of us decided to take a chance on finding some likely spot for an early dinner before going our separate ways. Between both of our cars, we have two different GPS devices, and they both assured us there was a Denny's restaurant handily nearby in Saugerties, a mere 6 miles away, even though we had never seen or heard of the place in all of our previous sorties into the area. But we figured we had nothing to lose, so we asked our helpful devices to lead the way, and they seemed more than willing to oblige. Once again, we were surprised that the traffic out of the fairgrounds wasn't as bad as we feared it would be, and we were soon on our merry way to our destination with high hopes. Not so fast! Our eagerness soon gave way to an ominous foreboding, as we navigated through smaller and smaller streets, away from the main roads, across some derelict freight tracks, and off into the wilderness, where no giant corporation in its right mind would locate one of its franchise operations under any circumstances. Sure enough, once we reached the terminus of a dead-end in the middle of nowhere, both GPS recorded voices happily announced: "Arriving at destination!" Now, this was not our first time at the rodeo, as they say, so we weren't falling for that, and realized that once again, we had fallen victim to what we refer to as the Zombie Apocalypse version of GPS directions, where the all-too-fallible technology inexplicably leads you astray and into some sinister-looking wasteland straight out of a movie set full of chainsaw-wielding lunatics. All that's missing is the ingenue in her lingerie going into the basement with the broken flashlight, and the psychopath in the hockey mask jumping out of the bushes, and it would be the perfect Hollywood nightmare, thanks not. At this point, we did the sensible thing and checked our cell phones instead, which only proved what we already suspected, that there wasn't a Denny's within 40 miles of the place, and we were just being led down the garden path and all the way around Robin Hood's proverbial barn, for no other purpose than the malicious amusement of our GPS devices at our expense, and once again, thank you so very much not. Unanimously deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, we threw in the towel and let our friends depart in peace, while we headed off to the Denny's in Newburgh, which we already knew was actually there, and not just some figment of the GPS maker's over-wrought imagination. Frankly, I've been trying my hardest to blame this on our old nemesis Comrade Mischka at the Kremlin's infernal weather machine, but to no avail - although the dinosaurs have pointed out that it certainly seems to have the evil spirit of Affirmed's dastardly hoof-prints all over it, and I can't say that I disagree with that one bit. Or bridle. Elle