Yay! There's Spen! Yay, there's Cal! Yay, there's Russ and his gang! Yay, it's so nice to see our sons.
We'd all had supper, but you know how it is at an outdoor festival, the vendors snacks call like the jingle of an ice cream truck.
The Optimist Club where they serve suppers of tenderloins & taco salads was closing. A telltale sign was the dumped ice from a cooler in the green grass at the side of the door. Since the club members had cleaned up for the night they gave us the last drink for free and a final plate of free fries. And, whoo-hoo, the sugar cream and pumpkin pie slices were half price. Yay, yummy sweetness.
We left the building with our goodies to pile into the wagon hitched to the red Wheel Horse. Going through the fairgrounds turned tractor show, most people drive golf carts, or riding tractors, sometimes they just walk. Rarely is there a vehicle, just too many people, and too many booths of interesting things set out for sale. As we picked up the 2 y.o. to plop her into the wagon, we wondered what Sissy was sucking on. Oh no! She'd picked up a piece of that ice! "Ew. Yuk. Spit it out!"
Quiet time? At 10:34, we had 26 minutes left. Visiting ceases. Fires get extinquished. Music's turned down low. As nice as that sounds, the night was horrible. We'd thought it a good idea to just sleep in the truck sans RV or tent. DH in the front seat and me in the back. Ugh. NOT a good idea. Yard lights shine through the side windows. Knees have to stay bent for the ol' bod to stay put. And seat belts never quit, they never give, they never stop poking!
Is there time? It's 8:34, and the fat lady sings at 9 a.m. LOL, actually we never know if she's fat or not, old or young, we never know who sings. We just hear her. We hear her sing over the loud speakers all through the exhibition section, all over the vast campgrounds, and all around Man's Land of acres of swap meet merchandise. Before each mornings devotionals she sings the National Anthem, and "O Canada". That's our sign.
Vendors can now sell, shoppers can cross from campgrounds to the show, and breakfast eaters can eat.
As we got in line for bacon, potatoes, pancakes, egg sandwiches and coffee, I see an old friend we haven't talk to since last year. He's a big bellied man, taller than a refrigerator, and he's holding his paper plate of egg sandwich patiently in front of him ready to pay. Without saying hi or making any sounds, I cruise by and smoothly take his plate and keep walking! You should've seen the faces. He's nonplussed. Servers stare. Hubby and sons laugh, but his wife guffaws! Hee, hee, hee, jolly fun!
It's not exactly fun what happened to Cal, but it was worth noting. It seemed to replicate so closely a video I'd seen on facebook where the author Vic was ticked off. Vic says "I like to park far-r-r away. I like the walk. I like my car not getting dinged." Then he fans his arm and hand wide, "Look at all these empty spots." Then the camera focuses on a vehicle out his side window, "He's gotta park right next to me!"
To eat our sandwiches, we sat at a table in the middle of the room that only had a couple people sitting at the far end. Cal, Spen and I looked around at all the empty seats. We checked out the surrounding tables that were empty of people. Why? Because a tall, lean guy, with gray long hair and beard, a plate full of food, and a cane on his wrist, sidled up, pulled out a tan metal chair, hooked his cane on the table edge, and without even leaving elbow room or making eye contact, sat down right smack dab next to Cal! It was the strangest thing. We silently looked at each other with big eyes and raised eyebrows then shrugged our shoulders. We shared a silent chuckle of disbelief that he had to "park right next to me!"
High Noon! 12:00, I hear engine rumbles and putt-putts. The big tractors, bulldozers and front loaders, are demonstrating their prowess on a mountain of dirt. I had to go look. If it didn't loom so large and wasn't as big as life I'd have swore I was seeing Mike Mulligan's Steam Shovel! Another strange phenomenon happened. I got out my camera and was scoping out the best angle for a good shot when like bees to honey, people started coming out of nowhere. A hand-holding married couple sauntered up. A man and his son briskly approached. Two men, one checking the under carriage, the other checking out the engine, got between us. Even a golf cart and a dump truck came on the scene. If I'd have had a bull horn, I'd have steamed, "There's free food at the Optimist Club! Go!" "Why are you all parking right next to me?"
Before we could leave, our son Russ wanted us and 4 y.o. Bubby to experience the Spark Show. As best as I can explain it, it's like a fire box on a steam engine train. The workers shovel into the fire box loads of wood chips. Then they pull the whistle, and it all funnels up and out the spout in a whirling hurricane fashion. A gazillion embers of yellow-orange bright sparks shoot to the sky! It's quite stunning.
Bed time? 9:34, the show's over, the nights dark, and the golf carts and riding mowers make a train of red tail lights as they exit the arena to return to camp. Contented sighs, and happy conversations, and laughter waft back to us. Sleepy babies, and gratified he-men have had their fill of fun.
For another year, the show's over.
Wait, did I hear someone say "midnight snack"? Then I heard that question repeated, "Well, do we eat together or not?"
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