Never, ever attempt to drive home when your drive brings you past the annual Royal Agricultural Fair at closing time. Took me an hour to clear the exhibition grounds and would have taken a lot longer were it not for my skillful citygirl driving (shut up ;).
Once finished collecting used coffee cups into a tidy pile, browsing through the glove compartment, and seat-dancing to the Backstreet Boys CD I found hidden deep in the car's recesses; I spent the rest of my time in traffic purgatory pondering the usual existential questions: why did I have to have that last, extra handful of pecans (now I feel sick)?, what the heck did I accomplish this weekend (socializing, eating and sleeping scoring top points; housework, schoolwork and workwork scoring anxiety-inducing low points)?, and the Royal Agricultural Fair - who still goes to that?
Despite the extra hour granted by the traffic jam gods, I never did figure out an answer to that last question. Kind of glad that people do still go though; seems like a nice, wholesome kind of thing to do on a Sunday afternoon. Besides, the 'questions stupid city-folks ask' radio segments that follow the agricultural fair crack me up.
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