Going to the fair was certainly an adventure. Even though I knew better, I wanted to believe it would be a romantic and dreamy scene from the 1950s. Wouldn't that be nice?
Although I do think the swings are pretty magical looking, we didn't go on any rides. I used to be so gung-ho about rides but apparently I've aged eighty years and was terrified by the sight of them (and seeing/smelling the multiple stands serving "deep fried butter" would not have helped my propensity for motion-sickness).
It was the coldest night of the year thus far, and I gave a lot of thought to how I would survive anywhere north of Charleston, South Carolina (realized I wouldn't). People-watching proved to be the most fascinating activity, and we spent the bulk of our time observing the mechanical bull-riders. Hilarious.