The Circleville Pumpkin Show

Last Friday I tagged along with the Kinghorns to the Circleville Pumpkin Show, a local event that's been held every year since 1904 or something. It's kind of a hassle to go to things like this—I always drag my feet and make up excuses and say I'll go next year—but I've been living a philosophy of saying yes to fun more, so when the chance arose I took it. It helped that I had spent the week getting mountains of stuff done through a combination of will, going to bed at 10, and rewarding myself with cream soda; by Friday, I actually had 7 hours to blow without any immediate deadline to worry about.

Here's Kate and I with the 1st place pumpkin. That ain't no Burger King crown—this picture doesn't do it justice. I could live inside that thing.



Here's me getting my fortune told by a computer. I'm pretty sure it was related to KITT.



Two words: Pumpkin Pizza. Also: Pumpkin Donuts. Also: onion rings, giant brats, pecan prailines. Also: Danger (see below).



Here's one of the main drags of Circleville in all its pumpkiney glory. The show fills five or six streets like this. Locals make a killing charging for parking in their yards.



Looking down from a ferris wheel.



The freaky thing about carnival rides is that you know they were built by gypsies, but you don't know whether gypsies adhere to the standards set by welders' unions and accredited-engineering-degree dispensers and local governments. You don't even know if the welding equipment was legitimately purchased and is up to code.



Gourds of all kinds are welcome at the Pumpkin Show.



I really don't know what to say about this. Is it a Halloween Tree? Is it a shrine to the Great Pumpkin?



Live it up: you're all going to be pies.



Here's where the danger comes in: The Fireball. Pretty much it's a 60-foot high circle with a roller coaster car attached. Some bum sits at the control and decides how fast and in what direction to spin you.



Our particular bum/conductor took great joy in letting us hang motionless for upwards of 20 seconds at a time, then throwing us through a spin cycle of a minute or so. Worst best ever.



And the place was crawling with Shriners! They made up a good third of the parade all by themselves, noodling around in tiny cars and playing in Dixieland jazz bands and strutting in lime green tuxedos. Classy. I need a fez.



This is the saddest individual I've ever seen. He was made entirely of patches and tears and was dragging an old broom broken in four places and held together with shoelaces.


Big thanks to Kate for remembering to bring a camera and for taking most of these pictures. See you at next year's show. And if you're in Texas this year, you should be going to this.