My Fair Lady

The Arizona State Fair is in town! Rides! Cotton candy! Stuff on a stick! Fried butter! And, oh yeah, the B-52s!

Shawn and I met up with some old friends (even made a new one on the way back from the bathroom that hung around for the whole encore - nice guy, good dancer). We did the crazy 80's dance for a couple of hours to Rock Lobster, Private Idaho, Planet Claire, Love Shack and to some of their new stuff. It's always interesting to head down to the fairgrounds for a little people-watching, adding up points for how many mullet haircuts were spotted (higher for balding or lesbian - really high for balding lesbian), how many missing teeth, estimating how many hours since that guy said good-bye to Sheriff Joe and we just couldn't take our eyes off the row behind us at the concert, each over 250 pounds, clad in tie-dye shirts with matching tie-dye headbands (I'm sure they were all making fun of my Bling Belt, oh well). We rode the skyride over the midway and caught an incredible sunset and beautiful views of downtown, uptown and the mountains circling it all, inhaling the grease from the cheese curds and Krispi Kreme hamburgers down below. I had splurged on a VIP parking pass (tickets to the fair were a whopping $6 bucks so I had a little left over) and as I handed my paper to the guy in the booth, my entire world changed. He smiled at me. He picked up his walkie talkie, pushed the button and said, "LISA SULLIVAN is here! LISA SULLIVAN is here!" He instructed the powers-that-be to mark me off the list and placed a big blue VIP sign on my dash. It's like the waters started to part as workers stood at attention, waved me past all the riff raff that had only paid the regular parking fee, taking down ropes, leading my queen carriage to my very own special stall. It was the best $20 I've ever spent. So, another night at the fair. Ears ringing, songs dancing in my head, no voice, sore feet. Just like the old days.