Going to the Arizona State Fair could be like going to Baghdad. Let me stress the word could. See, it's very crowded, very noisy and at any point you might be in the crossfire of a massive firefight. For some reason, though, this never happens. Or rarely happens. Or happens so often the news media just kinda shrugs its shoulders and asks, "Firefight at state fair or a fluff piece on a Welsh corgi named the world's fastest canine texter? Run the one we don't see everyday."See, the state fair is known for its gangs probably more than it's known for the fried pickles, fried bacon, fried beer or whatever new deep-fried, intestinal-blocking, heart-stopping commodity is currently in vogue (fried cholesterol). The fair is so infamous for the pervasive gang activity that several people laughed at us when it was announced in our weekly staff meeting we would be visiting. One older reporter — the crime reporter no less — jokingly told us to "pack your Kevlar." Sara and I wouldn't back down, though; after all, we've been to Jamaica, Queens. Besides, I had been to the fair before and I knew two things: that the rumors about gang activity were mostly true, and that the rumors about gang activity were mostly false.
In summary, yes, there are gangs of shady individuals at the fair, but no, they aren't dangerous, assuming you don't go pushing them around or "dissuhspectin." We're still watching The Wire, and the Omar Little character keeps talking about "the game." He specifically says, "I don't go putting my gun on anyone who ain't in the game, yo. You feel me?" Yes, Omar we feel you, and with that advice we didn't go to the fair to step up on some cholo and his khaki'd droogs with their well-starched shirts and teardrop tattoos. And for this reason, we survived the Arizona State Fair. (And also because we wore neutral gang colors: pink and purple, yo.)
We actually had a lot of fun. If you've never been, you should consider going. It's not very clean, or cheap, and the amenities are so bad we chose to hold our bladders for the entire evening rather than risk contracting some exotic disease in the ripe honeybuckets called Port-O-Lets. But, all in all, it still makes for an exciting evening. Plus there's carnies, who have enlisted young, well-spoken protégées (with full sets of teeth) to join their ranks in hopes of improving the carnie reputation (it worked!). Most of all, though, the Arizona State Fair is a cultural experience. Not like cultural in the sense that we saw other cultures and their arts, but in the sense that we saw the native culture of this bizarre state. From the bandana'd gang members and their watchful police shadows to the boyfriends toting around Kong-sized stuffed animals for their girlfriends to the fat men in their Hoverounds sucking on bottled air and puffing on cigarettes. These aren't just freaks at the fair; they're the people we share the state with. And really there's no better way to see the cross-section of your state than by going to events like the state fair. 
We went on the opening night. Our reasoning: it would be cleaner, and the people working there would be less likely to jam a shiv in your ribcage. The only bad thing about this night was that it was packed. Really packed. And most people don't really understand how to walk in crowds like this. They stop for no reason, look around, mess with their stroller, take a phone call … and meanwhile, a stampede of people behind them are elbowing each other to maneuver around the obstruction. We braved the crowd, though, and managed to see some vendor exhibits, the youth photography entries, lots of farm animals and, for Sara, the baked good entries. Sara could have done any of the baked goods, which means that next year she might enter something — I'm encouraging her. It was strange to look at the baked goods, though, because they were all several days old and many didn't look very appetizing anymore. Some of them looked like they were about to grow legs and cut in line on the Tilt-a-Whirl.
The animals were interesting, too. Lots of rabbits. Lennie would have loved it. We saw part of the goat show, which was run kinda like a dog show: goat owners parade their goats around a little arena, and then let a judge poke the goats in places the goats probably don't like. A woman next to us told me that goats are really smart: "They can open gates, you know." She was kinda miffed when I said that opening gates wasn't that great. Smart is changing the oil in my car, goat. Then Sara whispered to me that Jack can't open gates. True, but he can balance a ball on his front paws and stare at it for hours. Let's see a goat do that. We also saw the large bulls and cows. It was especially fun to watch the children point and laugh at the bull testicles that were swinging like giant pendulums underneath all the bulls. Kids will be kids, and bull nuts just can't be ignored. (Oh, you think I'm joking, don't you? Take your kids and secretly time them to see how long it takes to point them out. You'll be shocked.)
Sara and I were determined to eat some fair foods even though we're both on Weight Watchers after our jetBlue trips. We agreed to eat bad for one night; we even prepared by eating really healthy that morning and afternoon — in fact, I think we could have eaten with the goats. She had a Navajo taco, or Indian fry bread, and I had a corn dog. We also had an ice cream dessert called a Cow Pie, a funnel cake and we shared an ice cream cone as we were leaving. (Word to the wise: 9 times out of 10 it is smart to say no to anything called a Cow Pie.) It was all tasty, and we didn't even feel grossly full, which is how we were feeling after every meal last month on the East Coast. By the next day we were both eating healthy again after our little splurge in Phoenix.
The last thing we did was ride the big Ferris wheel, which provided a wonderful view of the fair below us and of the Phoenix skyline to the southeast. On our way out of the fair I was determined to win a prize for Sara at one of the Midway games, and guess what ... I did. It's a little neon turtle. To view it you first need an electron microscope and then someone to use the damn thing, but I promise the turtle is there. I didn't win a big prize — or a prize with a gun or a pot leaf printed on it, which is what Sara was hoping for — but it was fun to walk away with something for my girl at the Arizona State Fair.
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