Greased zombie harvest

  My 30 minutes of grease, sights and smells at the Harvest Festival.

          Windsor Harvest festival was just like last year.  I mean exactly like last year.  It was like a trip in time, there were the same hucksters trying to sell you crap that you wouldn’t buy at a garage sale.  The same bands playing the same 70s and 80s music that we tried to forget in the 80s and 90s.  The same people entered the same crap to be judged in the home and garden pavilion.  There were just enough categories and entries to ensure that everyone came away with a ribbon.  Another summer where the home and garden show was set inside the only hall in the City Center with out air conditioning.  So all the fruit and vegetable displays looked terrible by the time the exhibit was in full swing.  I did like what the heat did to the (Make vegetables look like Animals) contest.  va

           

 

 

 

 

Then there was the food. 

ss whf

Oh my god.  Walk of the greasy food zombies.  What is up with county fairs and obnoxious food?  When you go to a restaurant, there is a reason why you don’t see funnel cakes, and pulled pork on the menu.

 

PP WHF

 

I was hungry.

So I looked for something that didn’t have the word potato, cake, or pork in the name.  This took a few moments.   I bought a giant chicken fajita that they deviously rolled a paper plate around.  This turned out to be the stealth grease dripping cone from hell.  I ate while I walked (Seemed like the idea) and found that because my leg was the same temperature as the drippings from that damn fajita I didn’t notice there was a dripage issue forming.  By the time I was done not only did I look like I was a one legged BBQ chef, but I was followed by every fly with in a hundred feet.  That’s a lot of flies.  I tryed to clean up but I found that little pieces of paper towel were sticking to my leg, making it look much worse.

 It was at that moment, I decided to go home. 

That’s the last time. 

I am not going back next year.  I will walk along in the parade with the marching band and squirt water in their faces. I will stand on the shore of the lake and watch their pitiful fireworks show while feeding a major mosquito family.  I will even enter vegetable art into the home and garden show.  But I will not ever walk the gauntlet of food zombies again.  I still have the smell of pulled pork, cigarette smoke, and Indian Tacos stuck in my nose.

 

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