The minute my summer theatre gig ended, all I wanted to do was go back to New York City. Having just been dumped, I was in desperate need of a cuddle with my kitty, a Wine & Whine Girls’ Night, and a good night’s sleep in my own bed. Unfortunately, all these things were out of reach. The girl subletting my room was staying in the apartment for two more weeks. When a job opportunity came up to work at the New York State Fair, where the timing was absolutely perfect and they agreed to put me up in hotel for the duration, I snatched it.

The New York State Fair is a very strange place to be when every bone in your body wants to be in Manhattan. It was Purgatory: I had escaped the Hell of living and working with the man who had just broken my heart but the pearly skyscrapers of heavenly Manhattan were still out of reach. So I counted down the 10-hour work days, day dreaming of the fresh start to come and marveling at the strangeness of upstate New York.

In New York there are massive holiday parades that close down all of 5th Avenue for hours. Every day of the 12 day fair, there was a parade at 6PM. It featured high school marching bands, baton twirlers, Sparky the Fire Dog, and slew of tractor trailers.

Who am I to judge what is parade worthy and what isn’t? I’m sure if I saw a tractor in NYC I’d think it was amazing.

In New York City for fun we dance, drink, attend events and openings. Upstate, they build sculptures out of canned food.

If this was a gallery in Chelsea, we’d call it an art instillation, an homage to Warhol.

New Yorkers are so driven to achieve success- a Broadway role, a published novel, a corner office, a penthouse with river views- that we have little time for anything else. Upstaters consider winning a ribbon for a prize flower a success.

If the whole island of Manhattan took up gardening, I guarantee the number of people in therapy would plummet.

Maybe I don’t need theater, movies, comedy shows, and museums to entertain me. Maybe I just need a card-board cut out of corn to make me laugh.

I tried to appreciate my time at the fair and enjoy the moment. But I just couldn’t stop thinking of my home and all its culture-snobbery-elusive glory.

This notorious “culture-snobbery” makes it hard to look at things like this:
It’s an sculpture made entirely of butter. No, I’m not kidding! There is no irony, no statement. It is literally created to celebrate the diary industry. It blows the New York mind. There’s a cow Statue of Liberty! Try as I might, I can’t honestly see this and think anything but “gross”!

Sensibilities vary by location? There’s no place like home? We’ll go with that.
Really, I’ll be back before I know it. For now I’m making money and learning about non-city New York life!