Yesterday (Sept. 18th, 2008), Tracy and I went up to the Big E -- aka the Eastern States Exposition -- in West Springfield, Massachusetts. We had an absolutely glorious time. The weather was perfect, the people were friendly, the rides were great, the food was superb, and the beer was superber. Just an amazingly kick-ass day. We rolled in just before 11:00 AM and didn't leave until about 7:00 PM. We also dropped somewhere north of $300 once you add tickets, parking, and miscellaneous purchases. But hey, it's only once a year, so what the hell. The following is a multimedia journey through our day at the Biggest Fair in New England.

The first thing we do when we get to the Big E -- not just this year, but every time we go -- is grab ourselves a big bag of mini donuts. If you make a circle with your thumb and forefinger, that's about the size of these babies. The guys at the Donut Family booth (I have no idea if that's the actual name of the family that runs it) make them fresh, right in front of your eyes, using this delightfully entertaining little machine. Tracy got them to start a donut-making cycle just so she could capture this video. Watch in awe as each ring of dough spirals out towards you, transforming in under a minute into a warm, soft, mouth-watering delicacy. We split twenty two of them for a late breakfast.

There is an awful lot of shopping to be done at the Big E. Just an amazing array of vendors. A ton of these are of the arts & crafts variety, of course, as you'd expect at any self-respecting fair. There's other stuff too, though. Sports stores, dollar stores, all kinds of random shit.

Tracy is standing on one of the main vendor thoroughfares in this pic. We decided on a strategy this year: First loop around the shops early in the morning for recon; note what we want; come back later after we're done with rides and eating and whatnot to make our purchases on the way out. This turned out to be a very wise decision.

My friend Dan at work -- born and raised in Granby, just north of us, and a huge fan of the Big E -- recommended that we try out the London broil steak sandwiches at Butcher Boys. This we did, with mixed results. I had mine with peppers, onions, mushrooms and cheese sauce, and I found it absolutely delicious. Tracy had hers without the 'shrooms and complained that the meat was too dry. Truth be told, it was a bit dry, but as a guy who ordered his steak well done for twenty-something years (until Tracy showed me the ways of the foodie world, that is) I wasn't bothered by that fact. I was just thrilled to be sitting at a picnic table eating a phat, spilling-over-the-bun-packed sandwich.

Next up on the agenda after our shopping recon and lunch was the petting zoo. This is where you get to touch actual live animals, feed them dry, food-like stuff for a quarter a handful, and get their saliva all over your hands.

It's better than it sounds. Really.

This greedy bastard seemed to recognize the sound of the dispenser. He was over to me with his snout out before I finished emptying the slot of its dry, smelly cargo. I gave him half a handful, and then had to restrain him by the horn so I could give the rest to a pen-mate of his.

Zebu! How can you not love an animal whose name begins with "Z"?

Tracy was hypontized by the cuteness of the baby llama, seen here snuggling with the baby llama mama.

In fact, I think the Connecticut Cuties found their week four logo...

I love the sign in this picture. "Camel". Thanks for that. Wasn't sure I would have recognized it otherwise.

Humpty here was the last animal we saw on the way out. Tracy urged me to touch his hump. I did, and I quickly recoiled when I discovered it was... squishy. I mean, aren't humps supposed to be hard? Don't freak me out like that, bro.

I was outside drinking a beer (shocker) while Tracy went into a second petting zoo. (I'd had enough saliva slurped on me for one day, thank you very much.) She found this well-coifed member of the goose family having a drink.

Budweiser brings one of their six Clydesdale teams to the Big E every year. Let me tell you, these are some very impressive animals in person. These are what I picture the war horses of Rohan looking like.

Next up on our agenda was rides, and as soon as I saw the swings a tug of nostalgia said "Oh yeah, you're doing those." I lurves the swings. We went and bought a sheet of 22 tickets for $20, which was enough for us to afford two 4-ticket rides and one 3-ticket ride. (Remember when rides at the fair cost $.50?)

I think it was about two minutes into the ride when I first realized that we were the only two adults on board. This one girl next to me -- I'm guessing she was around 7 years old -- kept staring at me with this look that said "You're the bad man that Mommy warned me about." Hey kid, you'll be pushing forty some day too. Let's hope you stay young enough at heart to ride the swings without a hint of embarrassment.

Next up was a ride called the Fireball. This piece of equipment combined rocking, rotation, height, and a fair amount of inversion. That marked it as a "must-ride" in my book. I was actually a little surprised that I got Tracy to go on it with me.

The ride was indeed a blast, but it was too damned short. The guy running the thing barely gave us a minute of ride time, which was bullshit considering we were paying about $4 each to ride the thing. Curse you, stingy ride operator.

Our third and final ride was the Swing Tower. This was basically the same idea as the first ride we went on, but the disc the swings rotated from gradually lifted up until we were, I dunno, about 50 feet up in the air, let's say? Oddly enough, this - not the Fireball - was the ride that freaked Tracy out. My woman does not like heights, people.

Having finished with rides for the day, we headed over to the Avenue of States. On the way, we popped into the Opa Opa booth for a couple of brews. I had their excellent IPA. Tracy spotted the "Watermelon Ale" on their list of drafts and, after a sample to determine if it was worthy, she grabbed a pint of that. I know what you're thinking: Watermelon? In beer? Trust me, though, it was really good. This wasn't your typical flavored beer, where the fruit or whatever overpowers the beer. There was just a hint of watermelon that gave the brew a nice, refreshing edge to it. Very satisfying. Sadly, as Tracy mentioned yesterday, they don't sell it in stores. However, Opa Opa is having a special five-beer, five-course dinner on the 28th. Hmmmm...

Here's the deal with the Avenue of States: Each of the six New England States is represented by a replica of their original state house. (The "original" qualifier should clear up any confusion should you look at, say, Connecticut and say "That's not what our state house looks like!") Inside each you find vendors selling foods & beverages representative of that state, along with informational displays and presentations run by various groups. The state houses are my favorite part of the fair. We took about an hour and a half to roll through the lot of them.

New Hampshire: The Granite State. Mount Washington. The Kancamagus Highway. North Conway. The Alpine Slide at Attitash. Weirs Beach. Lake Winnipesauke. The Old Man of the Mountain. Hampton Beach Casino. The Merrimack River. The Connecticut Lakes. I-93. State Liquor Stores. No sales tax.

I had no idea that New Hampshire was in any way known for their kettle corn. In fact, I'm still not convinced. The free sample was awfully yummy though. Mmmmmmmm. Kettle corn.

Connecticut: The Constitution State. Litchfield Hills. The Charter Oak. The Pinchot Sycamore. Insurance Capital of the Universe. Mystic seaport. Cornwall Bridge. Yale. Mark Twain House. I-84. And, of course, the home of the Shire.

Just inside the Connecticut house and to the right, we met that guy there on the label, Mel. He didn't have the horns on, but he was dishing out samples of that Hellish Relish. His assistant offered me a chip with some of the mild version on it first. It was quite tasty. Then Mel said something along the lines of "We have extra-hot as well, if you'd like to-" Um, yes please. The extra hot kicked ass. Delicious sweetness laced with a fiery heat that builds up beautifully and then stays with you for a good long time after you swallow it. I had one dollop of this stuff and it was enough to give me sweaty scalp. Unfortunately, they didn't have any of their Sweet Inferno Pickles while we were there (they won a Scovie in 2004). Mel's is based in Fairfield, but you can buy online as well. Highly recommended.

Vermont: The Green Mountain State. Killington. Ben & Jerry's. Green Mountain coffee. Cheese. Burlington. Lake Champlain. I-89. Magic Hat. Long Trail. Otter Creek. And never to be forgotten, the late, great Catamount Brewing.

(Vermont kicks every other state's ass in the "Kick-ass Microbrewers Per Capita" department.)

You have to love a state with a self-deprecating sense of humor.

Maine: The Pine Tree State. Can't get theah from heah. Ogunquit. Bah Hahbuh. Acadia National Park. Camden. L.L. Bean. I-95. Mount Katahdin. Lobstuhs. The Piscataqua River Bridge. Stephen King.

You cannot enter the Maine house and leave without having a Lobstuh roll. Not even when they cost nine dollars. And yes, you can get a very similar lobster roll just down the avenue at the Rhode Island house, but it's not the same. Maine is lobster. You don't mess with that shit.

(Oh yeah, we eat a lot when we go to the Big E.)

Massachusetts: The Bay State. Cape Cod. Martha's Vineyard. The Kennedys. Nantucket. P-Town. The Hub. Faneuil Hall. Fenway. Boston Garden (the old one). Swan Boats. The Charles. The Museum of Science. The Boston Pops. Harvard Square. The "T". 128. The Pike. My ancestral homeland. (I'm actually getting a little verklempt.) Red Sox. Patriots. (Ah, that cleared up fast.)

Tracy: (Stepping up to the plate to represent for Western Massachusetts.) Springfield, the Jewel of the Pioneer Valley. Basketball Hall of Fame. Volleyball Hall of Fame. The Berkshires. Northampton. Lesbian Capital of the World. The Five Colleges. Emily Dickinson. Calvin Coolidge. Theodore's BBQ & Blues. (That was me.) Joe & Tracy's first date.

Only Tracy can help prevent forest fires.

Out by the back door of the Massachusetts house, Paper City Brewing was hosting a beer sampling. We thought about skipping it because of the long line, but- Yeah, I'm kidding.

I've mentioned my love of beer, correct? I'm sure I have.

Paper City, by the way, brews some outstanding beers. Their Hop Monster is a masterpiece and their Winter Palace Wee Heavy is a damned fine mouthful as well. Oh, and if you're ever in Holyoke (unlikely, granted) they have live bands on the fifth floor of their brewery building on Friday and Saturday nights. Good times. Great beer.

So we're walking away from the Paper City table and suddenly Tracy blurts out "Ohmygod! It's Deval Patrick!" Sure enough, the Governor of Massachusetts was rolling through the Mass House with his large security entourage. (This was not totally surprising, as it was "Massachusetts Day" at the Big E.) The Governor was kind enough to pause for a picture with one proud former Massachusetts resident.

Rhode Island: The Ocean State. Providence. Newport. Mansions. The Cliff Walk. Misquamicut Beach. Block Island. Narragansett Bay. Very, very small.

I usually don't like close-ups of myself that much, but Tracy took this picture and it came out pretty well. Double chin in check. An expression that combines both wisdom and a knowing sense of humor. Goddamn, though, the Nixon in my nose really stands out in that pic.

And now for some comic relief... Orange Heads! (Orange you glad I didn't say banana?)

After finishing up with the state houses, we headed back to the shops to make our purchases. As we started down the street towards the scarf and pillow-cover store Tracy was jonesing for, we ran headlong into the Big E parade.

The parade is mostly comprised of municipal organizations -- fire & police units -- high school bands, fair participants and sponsors. Here we have the Special Olympics bus, for example.

And here we have the Budweiser Clydesdales, with the Bud Wagon in tow.

One more shot of the pretty husses...

On our way out of Dodge, we hit the Mallary Complex, where they have the livestock competitions. It's not the Big E if I don't pay a visit to the sheep.

Cows do not actually go "Moo". Dogs don't say "Bark!" Cats sometimes approximate "Meow". But sheep? Sheep literally say "BAAAAA!" The first time I witnessed this was at my first Big E, in 2003. I was meandering among the farm animals and I looked up at this sheep and he opened his mouth and went "BAAAAAAAA!" and I just cracked straight the fuck up. That sound still slays me to this day.

Here are some cows. (I'm getting tired. This is a long-ass post.)

Oh yeah, I promised you butter sculpture, didn't I. Well here you go. Don't say I never did anything for you.

On that note, we departed. Well, actually, that's not true. We stopped to stuff our faces one more time. Tracy had some fried cheese curds and I had a ginormous meatball sub. Then we hit the road.

Best Big E ever? We thought so.

Here's the 2008 Big E haul. Clockwise-ish from left: Bird house, decorative star for chimney, Yankees lanyard for Tracy's sister, Hellish Relish, pillow cover, pair of Verizon complimentary first-aid kits, Verizon lip balm, Cabot shakeable cheddar cheese (not available in stores), scarf, maple beef jerky, Big E t-shirt (wearing it as I type this), Big E oval car sticker, "Always Kiss Me Goodnight" balsa wood sign (Tracy just hung that over the bed), pen and fridge magnet from OneThingCT.org.

Impressive, si? And we actually showed restraint.