Pickles & Dimes

Over the weekend, we went camping with friends. Because we were making a one-day jaunt back home to go to the State Fair, we decided it would be best to board Shorty since he always wants to be with us and we didn’t want the others at the campground to have to worry about him. (A few months ago, Jason’s 30-something cousin asked to walk Shorty. A few seconds later, we heard a ruckus and looked up to see him dragging her through the dirt to reach us. Dog REALLY likes us.)

It was the first time in three years we’d gone camping without him and I have to admit, it had its pros: no unwinding him from the picnic table after he hogtied himself into a tangled knot, no random demands to go outside at 4 a.m., no worrying about him barking at strangers shortcutting their way through our campsite. But it was also weird: without his gear (camping chair, bag full of food, bowls, leashes, bones, snacks, towels, blankets and ohmygod — a sleeping bag), it felt like we were missing something. I missed Furnace Puppy™ burrowing into my sleeping bag to warm my feet at night. Plus, I pictured his face all weekend looking like this:

Why you no bring me? I have own sleeping bag!

We went to the State Fair with a bunch of friends, which I recommend if only for the chance to eat 7 times as much food, since you can rationalize your gluttonous behavior through the vague notion of “sharing” by offering the rest of the group a bite and then, after they take miniscule tastes, devouring the rest with a clean conscience.

We went on Saturday and this is what it looked like to roam among a teeming mass of individuals who elongate their Os so much the words “no” and “boat” come out “nooo” and “boooooat”:

That stand on the right is advertising deep-fried cheese on a stick. For real.

The first thing I ate was fried pickles. Oh man, they were GOOD. Freshly made and battered to perfection, with a crisp, crunchy dill pickle slice inside. Delicious.

I then inadvertently cut in front of about 50 people in line for the alligator nuggets. (In my defense, every year there has been two lines and this year for some reason there was only one.) I realized my error right as I was ordering, so I think the nuggets didn’t taste as good because they were battered in a fine dusting of regret and shame.

Next up was the teriyaki ostrich. When they handed it to me (on a stick!, naturally), I looked at the lumpy, brown gelatinous mass and thought, “Well, that was six bucks wasted.” Then I took a bite. Honestly, it was the best thing I’ve ever eaten. Like a juicy burger, but better. I’ll be getting that every year instead of the gator nuggets from now on.

I also overspent on buffalo jerky. To say that makes me feel like a snobby meat connoisseur: Oh, you’re having chicken? How utterly pedestrian. I eat only ostrich and buffalo. (If it makes you feel better, tonight I’m having chicken patties for dinner.) I also bought a bucket of cookies (that’s right — a BUCKET, and I had to eat 6 or 7 just to fit the lid on it) that I intended to share with the rest of our camping friends, but didn’t. Oh well. Lesson learned. Next year: no jerky and no bucket o’ cookies.

Our group of six was meeting up with another group of seven, so while we wandered around aimlessly hunting for food like Norwegian zombies (pronto puuuuuupppppps), the groups kept texting each other their current location — giving each other purposely bad directions: We’re by the barn. With all the people. Eating stuff. Next to a guy wearing a Twins cap. Hurry up, he’s walking away! Which was why it was so utterly amazing when I randomly ran into my brother at one of the sheep barns. One of his FFA kids was showing a sheep, which explained why all of the sheep were wearing little hoods and cloaks. Jason: Thank God. They looked like members of the Klan.

The men had fun no matter what we were doing:

The girls stared in horror at this ride until one of us (not me, amazingly) said, “I have to turn away before I puke.”

I bet it smelled like vomit within a 50-foot radius of that thing.

We went to the Weezer concert, which was funny since only one of us likes Weezer. But that person came all the way from New Jersey and after years of being the “nice guy,” finally landed a wonderful girlfriend, so we all felt he deserved this one thing. The concert was OK, except for some dude (Jason) who got so into his head-banging (Jason) that he cracked the back of my head so hard it brought tears to my eyes (Jason).

Food rundown
Things I ate:

- Fried pickles (shared)
- Alligator nuggets (shared)
- Teriyaki ostrich (shared, but begrudgingly)
- Coke (shared with Jason)
- Mike’s Hard Lemonade (drank half then gave it to Jason because my hand was too cold)
- Cheese curds (shared)
- More fried pickles (shared)
- Chocolate malt (shared)
- Chocolate chip cookies (shared, with most of them still sitting in the bucket at home)

Things I didn’t eat:

- The Big Fat Bacon. We never walked near it, which was probably best since I had two thick-cut slices of bacon that morning at the campground.
- A frozen, chocolate-covered banana. Disappointing, but since I already had some cookies and part of a chocolate malt, that would’ve been overkill.

After driving back to the campsite afterwards, we got in at about one in the morning. So even though part of me suspected it, I was still frightened by what waited for us in our camper:

Hello, Dolly!

We made sure its stupid, unblinking, dead soulless eyes weren’t facing us as we slept because damn, that thing is creepy.