Deep Fried Oreos

Those three words sum up our trip to the “Upper South Carolina State Fair”: Deep Fried Oreos.

I guess we were spoiled in Indiana. Those state fairs would rival Epcot. They were fantastic. A real feast for the senses.

But this was. . . . not even really fair.

The petting zoo dude yelled at me like I was an idiot for not knowing where to park the stroller. Odd. A man who sells goat feed at a 100x mark-up to school kids was incredulous with me. But the goats were hungry, the ponies were sleeping, the zebras were ignoring us, the camel was chewing, the wallabees were silent, the ostrich was prehistoric, the turtles were napping, the turkeys were flaunting, and the ducks were wacky. Isaac guffawed at all of them. The poultry barn was even more hilarious with all those frenetic barking roosters, but I had to leave when I saw the green water they were drinking out of old coffee cans and Mountain Dew bottles.

The cows were just beautiful really. Too pretty to eat. And I never knew they were so skilled at sticking their tongues up their noses.

The whole experience was filled with this dawning realization on Isaac’s face, “My parents haven’t been lying. Ducks really do quack and cows really do moo!”

The rides were unbelievably expensive, but wonderful. Isaac learned to scream as he went around — his first “thrill” ride. The operators were surprisingly chivalrous — not something you expect in the midst of “fried dough” stands and “Mardi Gras” rides.

On our way out, we saw a monkey dressed to the nines in a little Valentiney dress prostituting herself for quarters.