Audio By Carbonatix
This was the plan:
Cowboys will trounce the sorry ass Chiefs, so I’ll sneak off with friends to the Fair on Sunday afternoon and let TiVo leisurely give me the highlights when I get home. During a Cowboys game Fair Park shouldn’t be too crowded. And the weather will be perfect: Gray, 60s, dry.
This was the reality:
Holy hell.
When news happens, Dallas Observer is there —
Your support strengthens our coverage.
We’re aiming to raise $30,000 by December 31, so we can continue covering what matters most to you. If the Dallas Observer matters to you, please take action and contribute today, so when news happens, our reporters can be there.
First of all, the Cowboys barely escaped the Chiefs, forcing every man at the Fair to offer a constant stream of “excuse me”‘s as we all checked our phone for the impossibly nervous live updates instead of looking where we were going. The distractions prompted a endless mass of human bumper-car confrontations along the Midway. Sounded something like this: “No!” “Another penalty!” “Ouch.” “Sorry.”
Secondly, everyone was there. I mean, ev-uh-ree-one.
A guy who really looked liked Channel 8 weatherman Greg Fields. A guy showing off a classic car who looked nothing like former Texas Ranger Jeff Kunkel but wore his name tag just the same. Lots and lots of people who made me feel real skinny. And the Big O.
Not Oscar Robertson, but a woman in a Cowboy hat that resembled Her Highness …
Oprah, who is doing her show today from the Fair’s main stage, was emceeing some squirt-gun Midway game under the ferris wheel when God offered his opinion in the form of rain. Cold, windy, sideways rain.
Smartest dude in Dallas: The guy whose T-shirt painting booth suddenly transformed into “Panchos, $3!”
I ingested a turkey leg, a corny dog, an ear of corn, a Belgian waffle, some funnel cake, a root beer, two light beers, half a cup of wine and an ulcer-inducing overtime escape all wrapped around a 10-coupon trip on some loop-dee-loop death trap called the Fire Ball. Only reason I’m alive this morning: No fried butter.
Even in the midst of Hurricane Oprah, Cowboys-Chiefs and a Fall flood, the line for the artery-clogging cuisine wrapped around three booths.
What did I miss?
