To fair or not; not too fair?

I've never lived in the place where the State Fair happens. The closest I've come is the Fourth of July fair in my small New Jersey hometown. It was homey, intimate and reliable in its predictability: Each year the games of chance would yield the same poorly made stuffed animals and stenciled mirrors trimmed in wooden frames, announcing the names of our favorite bands; the Knights of Columbus served beers alongside the sausage and pepper sandwiches; and the Bounce House was a sweaty, noisy cacophony of thrilled ten-year-olds and frightened four-year-olds. The day would end with heat stroke, broken mirror frames, contusions from poorly timed bounces, sugar highs and indigestion. But it was the social apex of our summer and we looked forward to it each and every year.

So why am I finding it so difficult to "get" the pull of the nearby North Carolina STATE fair on my fellow Raleighites? For the better part of a week around here, conversations have been fair-based. Previously hot topics such as the elections, the worldwide financial crisis and ACC football were pushed aside, replaced with debates concerning the best days to take the kids, the latest and greatest rides, and strategies for meeting up with other teens. When the fair opened on Thursday it had the news lead above the first day of early voting. Really.

I understand how the fair is important to farmers, artisans and card carrying members of the 4-H. I've seen the animated version of Charlotte's Web more times than most people have watched their own wedding videos. It's a big deal to have a prize-winning squash, a blue-ribbon winning quilt, a pig with an agile, articulate spider as a sidekick. I get it. But let's be honest. The average Raleigh-area citizen isn't interested in the quality of fleece on Farmer Brown's sheep entry. They go to the fair for the food.

There may be competitions for fresh produce, but the food being consumed can hardly be touted for its freshness, and the only thing it's going to produce is higher cholesterol. Did you know it was possible to deep fry a slice of pecan pie? According to the picture on the front page of this morning's paper, it not only is, but it's a favorite with this year's fair goers. Another photo made the fried mac-n-cheese look like something served at Spago. The fact that it's now blossoming with saturated fat is inconsequential. Heck, the good folks at the fair even managed to make a Twinkie LESS healthy. With its toxic filling and a shelf life longer than uranium, I didn't think that was possible. Of course, if you deep fry it, you maximize the fat, trick out the calories, and pretty much assure yourself a late-night date with an industrial-sized bottle of Tums.

What's a good Weight Watcher to do? Can I trust myself to nwalk the midway and safely make it past the funnel cake (10 points), cinnamon roll (13 points), and deep fried Coca Cola (points not calculable because it sounds more like a physics entry in the science competition than a digestable). I feel a twinge of guilt about not supporting the local economy, but have you seen the portion sizes? Those turkey legs looks like they came from a pterodactyl!

I suppose I could find the teaching moments in the experience: "Here's a good rule of thumb, kids: if it's served on a stick, it probablly isn't good for you!". But because I can't resist temptation, my kids will go another year without their own fair experience. Sorry North Carolina, but this year I'm opting out. Luckily, I've got a few things working for me. My husband would rather have a root canal than go anywhere with a crowd, the little kids are easily distracted, and the teenager wouldn't be seen with me in public unless it invovled the mall and my VISA card. It may not be fair, but their arteries will thank me later.