King County Fair-My Story

Here's a little history of the King Country Fair...OK, well, it's MY history with the King County Fair.

If the fair decided to crown a queen (not of the critter variety) I would nominate myself. Via 4-H, I showed dogs and cats at the fair. I know, so very farm-ish, right? The cats were our barn cats that were totally freaked out by the attention for one week a year. My favorite part was planning the cage decor. That's how to REALLY freak out a barn cat! When I wasn't showing my pets, I wandered around the fair with my friends. By the end, I had a large assortment of mismatched glassware from my favorite midway game, the Dime Toss (name changed to protect...I just don't remember the name, m'kay?) You toss the dime, and if it lands in anything, you win it. I had the largest ashtray collection of any 9 year old I knew. My worst memory was the summer before 7th grade. My mom convinced me short hair would be lovely. I thought I looked like a boy. When my two friends and I were going on The Hammer, I was the brave one, the one to ride by myself. A wonderful carnival worker said, "Hey, Boy! Get a friend next time." DOUBLE WHAMMY! I was not a boy, and I did have friends...two of them...two chickens, I might add! I may or may not have cried during the entire ride.

Anyhow, in high school I worked at the fair as a ticket taker. Prime boy-watching time. The mid- to late-80s were the heyday of the fair, with shoulder-to-shoulder crowds. SO MUCH FUN! I remember it was the place to see and be seen, a mid-summer reunion.

For the next era of the fair, I was a full-grown adult. I was a full-time teacher with a (rented) house and a car and everything. (Side note: I never did take up smoking...I wonder what happened with those darn ashtrays?). I was working at the fair as a parking attendant. I was the girl who took the cash, not the one with the yellow baseball bat. There is a hierarchy of fair workers, just so you know. I went in to see all the music acts for free. And a more mature version of boy watching. I was assigned to the lot farthest from the fair...so far away, it had a shuttle. Hmmm....not prime territory. This was the 10-day fair, and here we were on day 9. The bands were great, but in the guy department, not so great. That afternoon, the shuttle driver said, "Hey, some guy just asked when you finish your shift!" Sweet! "He's a very large and hairy guy between 40 and 50." Not sweet. Just then, a pesky guy boarded the shuttle bus and shouted, "You should come to my booth to get a pager to keep track of all these guys!" When the shuttle driver came back, she gave me the scoop on the pager guy...very nice, he's been here for the last several years, I should go talk with him.

So, after singing with (not on stage, mind you) and watching the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, I wandered over to the booth with cell phones and pagers. I chatted with the cute guy and listened while his friend made lame jokes. I figure about 25 percent of his jokes were funny, but if you say enough of them, some are bound to stick. I thought cell phones were fairly ridiculous. And pagers? They were for drug dealers and expectant fathers. However, I caught enough of the details to answer questions. I may have even sold a few phones. As the night wound down, the cute one asked if I'd like to go get a bite to eat. As the three of us headed to the High Climber (or was it CJ Coasters at the time?), I suddenly thought, "What in the world am I doing? I'm headed to a restaurant with two men from SEATTLE! This is the perfect beginning of a crime mystery...Local Teacher Vanishes...Last Seen Talking with Seattle Men!" (Did I mention I was born and raised in Enumclaw? Fairly sheltered)

Anyhow, we went out that night. The next day we met to watch the hypnotists and went out again that night. We had our first official date that Wednesday. In Seattle!

Imagine my parents’ delight when I told them I met a wonderful man at the fair. I do believe they thought I was dating a Carny. (Is that derogatory? CarneyTown.com is a place to find jobs, so I hope not.) I assured them this man met my tooth-to-tattoo ratio standards (I didn’t have an exact number, but to date me a man needed to have many more teeth compared to the number of tattoos. Not all carnival workers met this standard). His family likely wondered the same thing about me.

We married in July of 1999, just two days short of the 2 year anniversary of when we met. We now have a whole passel of children named Ferris, Scorpion, Hurricane, Gravitron, Scrambler, SkyDiver, Tilt-a-Whirl, Yo-yo, and Zipper. Not really, just two sweet girls. But seriously, if I named my kids after carnival rides, I would be a SHOE IN for the Queen of the Fair!

We’ve attended the King County Fair faithfully every year since we met. We’ve seen its recent incarnations, going from 10 days to 3 days and several in between. Anyone remember the Eco-Fest or Agri-Fair? I’ve often wondered if the lady selling organic reusable feminine products made much profit.

I love the fair. It really is a part of my history. I have high hopes that this really will be The Return to Greatness. Long live the King County Fair!

If you'd like to read more sassiness, head over to MissMouthy.com