I’m a huge fan of the fair. When I was younger, I went to the fair every year. I’m well familiar with the Scrambler, which weaves you in and out of other screaming riders at high speeds; the so-called “carnies” and the various foods on a stick–apples, chicken, and now bananas. I also, actually, like the smell that hits your nose when you walk through the entrance gates. Sure, it’s a crooked scent concoction of vomit, livestock, and fried batter, but it brings back some good memories.

When you do something over and over again, like go to the fair, it’s easier to look back on life. Ha! Fairs have the same rides they’ve always had, same food, same smells. I like this fact. Yet, I found myself afraid to get on the Gravitron, which I owned in fifth grade. A candy apple seemed like too much of a hassle. Instead, I paid $1 to see a ginormous pig, and enjoyed petting goats and cows. This fair had a kangaroo and a camel. I wasn’t impressed. The piglets, however, really wowed me, and the bumper cars, an unexpected plus.

In such a dirty place, I found the purest thing. It wasn’t the air, that’s for sure, nor the port-o-potty I was forced to visit. It was the consistency. These places never change. May they always stay the dilapidated, confused mix of society that they are. If so, I’ll keep coming back. I owe it to the nice man running the mini pony rides, who, when I asked if I was too big to give it a go, said, “No, the pony’s just too small.” Truth is, I am too big. The ponies have always been mini. And I doubt they’ll be changing anytime soon.