STRANGER THAN FICTION: FAIR'S ARRIVAL BRINGS BACK MEMORIES, GOOD AND BAD

It's amazing, the difference between a child's view of the SEMO District Fair and an adult's view.

My family traveled from Sikeston to the fair for one glorious night every year. Each of us had a set amount of money to spend on rides, but Mom and Dad pretty much went bonkers on the food. They gave in almost every time we asked for it.

My folks knew how to set priorities.

Have you ever noticed that all fair food is on a stick? Corn dogs on a stick. Beef on a stick. Apples on a stick. Pickles on a stick. Cotton candy on a stick. Okay, maybe the cotton candy is on a weird cardboard cone, but it's LIKE a stick.

They stab all that sugary, salty, fatty food, sell it and customers end up with -- you guessed it -- heart failure on a stick.

But isn't that food great? Every time anyone mentions the fair, one of my co-workers swears she hears the words "funnel cakes." By the way, funnel cakes are NOT on a stick -- yet.

As children, my sisters and I loved the fair. We counted our tickets, scanned the rides and decided which ones would produce the most nausea per dollar.

Meanwhile Mom and Dad, who weren't even farmers, insisted on dragging us through the livestock pens. We also had to go through the Arena Building and look at all the displays. They ranged from the scientific (anti-abortionists displaying huge, nasty photos), to the boring (encyclopedias) to the magical (a faucet suspended in the air).

Later, in my late teens, the fair was where I met the foreign, thrice-divorced, 40-year-old boyfriend my parents grew to love. And if you believe that last part, I've got a Boogie Bridge to sell you.

The other night over a few adult beverages, some girlfriends and I were discussing the fair, Six Flags and other amusement parks. We all had the same story -- we still go to these places, but nobody feels the same about them as we did 10 years ago.

As 15-year-olds with hormones traveling through our veins but no cars to travel up Interstate 55, we went to Six Flags with our families and church groups, looking to meet some REALLY CUTE GUYS (giggle, giggle).

The day started with careful hairspray and makeup application, which continued at every restroom in the park.

Unfortunately, Vidal Sassoon and Maybelline were no match for Thunder River. By the end of the day, the hair was limp and the blemishes shining through.

My friend Kim's Six Flags disasters are still fresh a decade later. Her family insists on dragging out a photo taken right after she rode Thunder River. Poor Kim choose a flimsy white T-shirt for her outing, and in the photo, her double-A cup is apparent.

"I'll bet you were wondering why all those guys walked by winking," I told Kim.

"Winking? They were squinting!" she said.

The Other Half refuses to go with me to Six Flags, even though I ended up with two free tickets this year. He doesn't like to ride rides, he doesn't eat unhealthy food and he DEFINITELY wouldn't sit through a show called "Pop Goes America."

Party pooper.

~Heidi Nieland is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.