52 Letters: #7
The first trip was a quest for food. With Anthony's List. Typical. Once again our search for the incredible, now legendary, chicken on a stick that "tastes like a giant, but better, McDonalds chicken nugget" came up empty. We did try the crowd favorite shrimp corndog (the sauce was key, but the shrimp clung to that stick making it a little hard to eat) and the messy but yummy pretzel dipped in chocolate and almonds. I left ready for a nap, took that nap and woke up with a belly ache. Must have been the brat on a pretzel bun. Or the double bacon corn dog. Or the rib wrapped in bacon.
Trip two to the fair meant meeting up with some old muskie friends and tour guiding them through beer tents and animal barns and right up to the spin art station. ($2. Well worth it.) We introduced the Iowans-living-in-Chicago to the glories of Iowa beers (tried West-O for the first time. almost as great as Confluence.) We met Squirt, who met Al Roker the day prior, and took photos with corndogs and almost went down the giant slide. To the people who sat next to me on the shuttle ride home: You're welcome for the lovely description of the Des Moines Art Center and I'm sorry for making you talk to me the whole way home. Those steel flowers were pretty. Hope the trip back to Minneapolis was lovely. (I. Talk. To. Everyone.)