Fair Queen
I may have told this story sometime in the past - but I can't recall. It's time to be thinking about the county Ag fair, so I'm remembering . . the Fair Queen.
I was sixteen. In high school. Very busy on my parents' farm; milking the cow and or two dairy goats, taking care of my horse, and generally speaking doing any work my mother was unable to do due to medical issues. Early in the summer I got a letter in the mail urging me to consider entering the competition for County Fair Queen.
I scoffed and tossed it aside. Then. You know. Got just a little curious. I called the organizers and asked about eligibility. I was not a member of the 4-H club nor the FFA (Future Farmers of America). I was just - actively involved in farmwork every single day. Could I? Enter?
"Yes!" they said, "You don't have to be a member of 4-H.
Details followed. There was to be an interview with each contestant to evaluate her farm knowledge, followed by a showy event in the grandstand early in the week of the fair. I. LOVED the fair. I'm. I'm going to DO this!
I attended my interview, and talked about Home Farm and my responsibilities therein. It went quite well. I asked for details for the 'pageant-y' part. "Wear a nice dress," I was told. I told them I had nothing even approaching a 'prom-type' formal dress. Not necessary! Just a nice dress will do.
The most recent thing I had sewed was a halter dress made of robins-egg-blue crinkle cotton. I loved it. Definitely more of a party dress; not something I could have worn to school or church. So - that would be my dress! I was psyched. Ready to do this!
The evening of, I found myself in a waiting area under the grandstand (which was freakin' FULL). Then, I saw them. Them. The other two contestants. There were only two! And they were both from the Important family. The family that, I came to find out, 'wins' nearly every contest at the fair. They were stunning in elaborate gowns.
I looked down at my blue dress, and my palms started to sweat. My escort for the evening was a fellow student I knew pretty well, and liked but did not always 100% get along with. I clung to his arm as he walked me out onto the stage like a drowning person.
I felt a bit frozen as I sat at the side of the stage with Glamour Girl 1 and Glamor Girl 2. The announcer was a jovial, big-voiced middle-aged Guy in an astonishingly ugly plaid suit. He called me up first to interview. He (sincerely) complimented me on my dress and noted that I had made it myself. "It's lovely!"
My dears, I had nothing left to lose. And I had already calibrated myself to his level of humor.
"Thanks!" I told him modestly. Clutching the microphone with white knuckles. Then I looked him and his suit up and down and said, "I wish I could say the same!"
The audience hooted and chuckled, and the guys looked at me with a little grin. It was on. He was going to match that energy, yes he was!
I proceeded to have the best public speaking experience of my LIFE. Made me seriously consider taking up standup comedy. The audience was ROLLING. To be fair, anyone who has ever milked cows has at least one humiliating hilarious cow story. When I sat back down at the end, I felt faint and woozy, but triumphant.
The other girls were called up in their turn, and nervously answered his questions. Um. I take care of the chickens. Sometimes. After cheer practice. Um.
Then it was time to crown the new Fair Queen. I was called up as second runner-up. Which, you will note, in this context means LAST PLACE. Glamor Girl 2 was first runner-up, and GG1 was crowned the Queen.
The next time I saw my schoolmate/escort, he told me that, in his opinion, I had only been invited because the event organizers needed someone for the Important Girls to beat. Which, yeah. That tracked.
But they'll never be able to take away what Suit Guy and I had together for 3 minutes in 1985.
