A Fair Choice

By Anni Rossi

Mirrors were surrounding us at every angle. “Do you think they would find us in here?” I spoke in the general direction of where I thought she might actually be standing.  “I hope so! I’m hungry.” she said. I was quite content to feel temporarily lost and disjointed from the sea of people stuffing their faces outside.  

My cousins and our families met every year at the Minnesota State Fair.  It was something I always looked forward to when I was a kid.  I would toss and turn with excitement on the eve of our family ritual. I’d obsess over what new food on a stick we might try or if I was tall enough for the scarier rides this year.  I fantasized about visiting the dairy building and eating cheese curds and milk shakes. I’d picture myself careening down the ten story high slide on a burlap sack, which was equal parts exciting and terrifying.  The anticipation was high and stacked with hope in my 11 year old mind.  

Looking back, I didn’t fully realize how exhausting this family tradition felt.   We would wait in long lines to eat insane amounts of fried food and walk shoulder to shoulder with strangers all day in the heat and humidity.  The pressure of deciding what to eat, see, ride and watch were actually quite overwhelming to me as a girl.  I didn’t want to be swept away into what everyone else wanted to do, but I also had a hard time choosing what seemed the dreamiest to me.  

I was given ten tickets for the midway carnival each year.  I usually rode the white rickety roller coaster with my cousin Katie because it was her favorite.  It made me feel anxious and uncomfortable,  but I didn’t want to leave the fair feeling any FOMO.  We both took pleasure in riding the swings each year. They unleashed an invigorating yet temporary sense of freedom from my obligation to please and belong.  

This year I decided I wanted to rally for us to try something new. I had my eyes set on a funhouse.  It was in the shape of a giant clown face and its mouth was the entrance.  I had never been in one, nor had I ever made such a strong suggestion for how us cousins should spend our midway tickets.  Katie was the only one of four cousins who reluctantly agreed to come with me.  This was mainly because her mom pressured her to do so out of politeness.

We were greeted by some dinky light up skulls and a floor that tipped slightly from side to side.  Katie looked at me with an expression that showed her distrust of this being worthy of our precious tickets.  I felt worried that I made a bad decision for us.  

We pressed on and found a glowing staircase that shifted back and forth. 

 We came upon a room full of mirrors.  It was dark and quiet.  I felt immediately comforted and grounded by the infinite and meditative reflective plane before me.  Katie was anxious to find the exit and get back to the others.  I wasn’t.  I laid down on the floor.  “What are you doing?!” Katie huffed frustrated.  “I need to lay here for a bit. I understand if you want to leave.” I said calmly.  She did.   I continued to soak up the sensation of the cool floor on my skin and watched the stillness of my body reflect back to me like a prism.