Friday, May 22, 2020

Pandemic Narrative, Part 11: The Fair

Today’s COVID-19 stats: With 5.15 million confirmed cases worldwide and 1.62 million in the United States, the Home of the Brave is also home to just under one-third of all the infections. What a badge of honor that is. Minnesota is right around 18,200 cases, but that’s in the end of May. Based on the models discussed in the news, Minnesota has yet to reach a peak. Why we are taking as many steps to open is beyond me…I mean, I get how crippling this is for so many businesses and families who aren't able to work. It doesn’t seem like a lot of people are going to be taking advantage of enough newly-reopened options to make it financially worthwhile. I still believe opening at this point only increases the likelihood of the second wave, which already seems inevitable, only being worse than where we’re at right now.

The big news of the day is that the announcement that the state fair will not be opening this year. If you’re not from Minnesota or at least an adjacent state, it’s really hard to convey exactly how fundamental to the collective identity of the population the state fair is. Me personally, I’ve never been one to live and die by it. I’ve gone dozens of times, but it’s been the rare instance I’ve ever found anything particularly transcendent about it. I don’t think I could even make an entire day out of it anymore: I’d need to have the best, most supportive walking shoes known to humanity, and a place I could go to recharge; a fair that has attendance records broken several times each year is not an ideal space for an off-the-charts introvert to spend an entire day. Sooner or later, you reach a point where you just need the quiet.

I don’t go every year, but more often than not I enjoy it when I do. For me, whether or not I’m going to hit every bullet point on my food checklist is less important than spending the day with some of my people and having some run outside of the routine. There’s a sense of community and history that permeates everything about the fair, even radiating from the buildings you pass without entering or the corners you didn’t have the time to visit. It’s no surprise to see why it’s such an important event to so many people. 

This is why you spend at least half of your time there waiting in line for things. And bumping into people while you’re trying to walk from Point A to Point B. Or jammed into an overstuffed shuttle bus to the fairgrounds. Or waiting in a bus queue at the end of the day, hoping there will be enough room on the next one to arrive so you can finally be on your way home. The fair is a good time, but the wash of humanity you’re surrounded by from beginning to end is overwhelming. 

I had suspected at least a month ago the fair would close. What I’m thinking about now is more about what school will be like to go back to. You see, the run of the State fair lines up pretty closely with the week and a half or so involved in teachers getting back to school and preparing to start the year. The last day of the fair is Labor Day, and public schools traditionally open to following day. If the state is anticipating the need for social distancing will still be necessary enough to shut down the fair, I can’t even begin to guess what the start of the next school year will be like. 

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