Can you bring dogs to St Lucie County Fair?

I was particularly fond of visiting the petting zoos, even though as a toddler I had a bad experience with a llama stealing from my food bag rather than waiting to be hand fed.

I wasn't really big on the carnival rides, but I enjoyed eating unhealthy food from the midway and trying to win prizes on those goofy games.

Still, a lot has changed since the days of my youth.

I remember being surprised recently when I saw a public telephone in a gas station parking lot. What a strange time it was, way back when people actually shared phones that were anchored in one place.

It seems crazy to think we ever lived under such primitive conditions. So I wondered if fairs fell into a similar category — relics from the past modern life has rendered irrelevant.

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I was pondering that question as I made plans to attend the St. Lucie County Fair last weekend with some friends of mine from New York.

Two of them, Jason Grant and his 11-year-old son Jake, had never been to a fair. Lori Grant, Jason's wife and Jake's mother, had only limited experience with fairs.

I thought it might help my perspective if I could see fair-going through some fresh sets of eyes. The Grants, who recently moved to Port St. Lucie, were willing to be part of the experiment.

"We're trying to assimilate," Jason said. "We are trying to learn new things."

Our first stop was the petting zoo, which was strategically placed near the main entrance to the fairgrounds.

It offered the usual assortment of calves, sheep, and goats. There were also some more exotic animals not typically found on American farms — including large turtles, a pair of camels, a zebra-donkey mix, and two lazy kangaroos.

(Thankfully, there were no llamas, so I didn't have to revisit that childhood trauma.)

We had fun feeding carrot slices to the animals and petting those that would let us. When we were done, we had been at the fair at least 15 minutes, so it was time to eat.

We made our first of many refreshment stops at Ol' Tex Bar-B-Q, where I tried to convince Jason to order a doughnut burger. He wasn't having it.

"Oh, god! Too much sugar!" he exclaimed.

I couldn't really blame him. I love doughnuts. I love burgers. But the combination of the two seems even more unnatural to me than the offspring of a zebra and a donkey.

We kept walking, and soon we were lost amid the sights and sounds of the fair: People screaming. Rides whirring. Balloons popping. Carnival barkers calling out to lure visitors to their booths.

Jason and Jake learned the hard way the barkers will say just about anything to get people to slow down and talk to them.

One accused Jake of knocking over his drink. Jason apologized and asked if he could get a replacement.

"Yeah," the barker said.

"So what were you drinking?" Jason asked.

"Vodka and orange juice," the barker replied.

We started walking again. It wasn't long before a clown in a dunking booth found a way to push Jake's buttons, though. Noting Jake was wearing a New York Mets baseball cap, the clown made some derogatory comments about the team.

For Jake, those were fighting words. Before I could dig my camera out of my pocket, he was tossing baseballs at the target that triggered the dunking booth's release door.

Jake knocked the clown into the water on his second throw, but the clown returned to his perch and continued to hurl insults. Jake kept throwing, although he wasn't able to score a second hit. 

With carnival games, as with so many things in life, it's good to quit when you're ahead.

There were a few awkward moments during the day, like when Jason spotted a Confederate flag blanket for sale at one of the souvenir booths. For the most part, though, the Grants seemed to be getting into the spirit of fair life.

"Do they have cow tipping here?" Jason asked at one point. "I always wanted to do that."

Eventually, we made our way to Pork Chop Downs, the site of the fair's pig races. Jason played along and uttered his best pig calls when the event's emcee asked the audience to give encouragement to the contestants.

Most of the pigs seemed to need little urging to race around the track, although the large Asian pot-bellied pigs in the final race weren't exactly moving swiftly.

If the Olympics wants to add a sport that matches the fast-paced action of curling, I would recommend pot-bellied pig racing.

Jake and Jason went on a few rides, including the Thunder Bolt and the Haunted House.

And yes, we continued to eat throughout the day. Between the four of us, we had ice cream, crawfish, fried Oreos, a Philly cheesesteak, a hot dog, a corn dog, a funnel cake, and some lemonade.

OK, I'll admit I was the one who had the fried Oreos. I would have thought Oreos were a perfect food that could not be improved. Frying them does make them better, although I could feel my eyes start to dilate with the first bite.

If I had any room left in my stomach, I would have tried the Pork Parfait, a mixture of pulled pork, mashed potatoes, and barbecue sauce swirled together to look like a sundae. Maybe next time.

Overall, I'd say the Grants had a good time during the half-day we were there. Lori proclaimed the fair to be a good "family-friendly" environment and Jake rated the experience as "a high 9.5 out of 10."

There was even some talk of them joining me when I return Saturday night for the fair's demolition derby.

So I consider my question asked and answered: Fairs still matter.

This column reflects the opinion of Blake Fontenay. Contact him via email at [email protected] or at 772-232-5424.

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