Sure, the Virginia State Fair boasts music that would be popular at a Wheeling, West Virginia roller rink, pumpkins so big they’d make Charlie Brown cry, and a veritable Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade of southern stereotypes, but that’s all part of its charm.
However, as a journalist, the worst things to cover are annual events in which the only things that change are the fried snack foods de jour and the most popular NASCAR fanny pouch (Hint: it’s not Juan Pablo Montoya). Each year, you find yourself recycling stories and trying to find some way to avoid patronizing on paper whoever groomed the prize-winning sheep.
The best time I had at the fair was back in 2001, when on my third consecutive day of features coverage, I told my editor I was going to do a piece on carney freaks - literal (sort of) freaks, not metaphorical. And just as he said, “You’re doing what?!?!?!” I faked some phone static, hung up and started hunting for the world’s smallest woman.
That day I spent with Myrna the Mermaid, Angel the Snake Girl and Tiny Tasha was an all-timer. Read about it here…
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1 comment:
Great stuff! I followed the link and read your original story. Very creative.
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