Carnival Food

The biggest anticlimactic, crash your expectations to the ground, disappointment is, carnival fair food. I know what you saying “Hell no Lucero I love my deep fried _______! It is the best part of the fair.”

I am here to tell you no it is not. It’s not good, we just make ourselves believe it is.

Every year one of the events we look forward to is the Austin Rodeo and before we moved here it was the Del Mar Fair. The day we are supposed to leave, I get more excited than my kids because I look forward to some of that tasty fair food. I am singing it in the car and telling my wife my whole plan. “I am going to get me a mess of something fried, something dead on a stick, and something battered and caked in powdered sugar.” It’s going to be great. That is as good and as American as it gets. My mouth is salivating before I even get in the place.

What I actually get is a concoction of fried carbohydrates, swimming in bland, melted, processed cheese, sprinkled with fake soy bacon bits, a fried Oreo, and a BBQ beef sandwich the size of a McDonald’s kid’s meal burger. I get all of this for the bargain basement price of $22.

I am the type of person who can remember details from years past, no one else can ever hope to retain, but when it comes to fair food I cannot seem to remember how disappointed I was the year, month, week, or hour before. I am like a dog who gets excited its owner comes home every day. I get all worked up about how great the fair is like that rat in Charlotte’s Web and every time I go, I exclaim “That was not as good as it looked.” It never is and I want it to be so bad because I need justification for spending $8 on Garlic Fries that end up being french fries with garlic salt and Parmesan cheese sprinkled on them.

I am in Texas, why am I buying BBQ or a $9 hamburger at a fair? I am in the meat capital of the country and will bitch about paying $12 for good BBQ platter anywhere else yet hand over $12 willingly, like a crack addict, for chopped crap on a miniature sized bun at the rodeo. Do you know what the sad part is? I will do it all over again next year.

Don’t get me started on those carnival games.

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