A LIKELY STORY: FAIRS AND THE PUK-A-TRON AREN'T JUST FOR KIDS

When Benjamin Franklin wrote the only two things in life that are certain are death and taxes, he obviously hadn't taken the fair into consideration.

Despite his comments to the contrary, I could tell by the look in my son's eyes that he wasn't much impressed with Ferris wheels and corn dogs. At 4, he already possessed that strained expression grown-ups maintain at the fair each year.

"How much longer do I have to walk around in 90-degree heat and ride those stupid little rides that go six miles an hour?" his eyes said, while he glanced at his Power Rangers watch.

Almost without exception, kids these days have the attention span of crack addicts. Zach is no exception, and he had already been churning corn dogs in his stomach for three hours on rides like the Puk-A-Tron.

I could tell he was ready to go.

Besides, he seems to like it better at home where he had a Super Nintendo waiting on him next to a bowl of his favorite sugar.

I was ready to go, too, but that's different. I'm an adult from Cape Girardeau and, if memory serves, I've been to 130 of the 141 fairs. I'm supposed to be bored by now.

Actually, I think Zach had a pretty good time, but he's much calmer about it. Not like his father who used to run around like a fool, riding the same rides over and over until everyone who wanted could catch a second glance of his funnel cake.

After going for many years, I've finally come to realize that fairs are for kids, not adults. Especially those of us who don't particularly care to hear another country musician butcher the classic "Your Cheatin' Heart" or to ride rides maintained by men who look like they should be doing anything but watching small children.

They tell us there's something for everyone at the fair, but there's not; I looked. There wasn't anything there for me or anyone who might be diabetic. Judging from the looks of those carny workers, an orthodontist could make a small fortune at the fair, though.

Adults have it rough at the fair, and it's right that we have that pained look once a year. The fair is hardest on us. I mean, I enjoy a cold Coke as much as the next guy, but $65 a glass is a bit much.

And ride costs seem to get higher every year. I had to sell one of my lesser-liked children so I could take Zach this year.

But for Zach and most other kids, things at the fair are free. They are oblivious to the fact that these things take money. They know that there is such a thing, but they think you can go to the money store and buy some more.

"And what do you buy money with?" I asked.

He deferred to the "You don't know everything then, do you Daddy?"

Lori rolls her eyes in agreement when he says that.

I usually give in, feeling as sheepish as Peter Lorre in "The Maltese Falcon" after an unarmed Bogey manages to get his gun for the third time.

But all in all, I must admit, the fair is a pretty good time. I can tease all I want, but you know where I can be found every night this week.

The Puk-A-Tron.

~Scott Moyers is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.