Since it is county fair week in my home town I thought I would share a rather embarrassing tale that happened at this county fair about seven years ago.
Now at the time I was doing a local television show and so the station had a tent at the fair. It doesn't do much for business except allow for exposure and feedback. It also can make for some long nights.
We had decided to split hours so someone was always at the tent and that way, everyone wouldn't die in the July, early August heat.
Now I will preface this story with an old Fak family axiom so you can understand fully the situation. It is said that only two things give me gas, food and beverage. Yes, I am one of those people who has to watch what I eat at weddings, funerals, reunions and celebrations otherwise I can be fined by the EPA for serious air pollution. One of my brother-in laws always asks if I ever hurt someone with one of my intestinal liberations. I think he is only half kidding.
So here I was at the fair and a friend came running down the Midway telling me he needed me to bail him out of a jam. It seems one of the judges for the chili cook-off competition was a no show and they needed someone right now to take his place.
At first I shook my head no until my friend advised me that there was free beer to clean one's taste buds between samplings. Yes, I decided to help my friend.
I put the "out to lunch" sign up and walked down to the tent where the cook-off was taking place. There were six chili chefs and I figured that was about right. I could get a good lunch, wash it down with a little suds and go back to my tent ready to hand the reigns over to my TV partner who was on duty next.
It started out strange when I was handed the first chili sample in what looked like a urine sample container. I said no, I wanted a little bowl of each chili so that I could make sure I captured the taste in my official capacity.
My friend explained I had to sample all six recipes in order to judge and I advised him that six small bowls of chili were not a problem for me.
Of course they were all good and in fact, I asked for a little more from three of them to make up my mind.
Now the results can be shown in a scientific formula. No food in about a day, a pitcher of beer and about a half gallon of chili in an empty stomach equals, well you know what.
After the judging I hung around a bit talking to the cooks about their fabulous recipes. I was modest with my application of beer but I did find myself grabbing a little more chili here and there until I knew that the forces of nature were about to become known to anyone within a square block of the fair.
I pinched my cheeks and began my walk back to the tent where my relief was probably already waiting for me
Of course walking meant that I couldn't exactly hold anything back and in fact I believe that day that such a plan would have probably resulted in internal damage to something inside of me. I never looked back as I walked but in my mind I imagined fairgoers behind me keeling over like dead mosquitoes in a mist of bug killer.
Back at our tent, I didn't know what to do. It was a still night and the three enclosed sides of the tent sort of captured everything and allowed it to linger only to be strengthened by the next and then the next emancipation of chili fumes.
I couldn't believe it was as bad as it was until my TV partner who was next up on duty got within about 100 feet of the tent and stopped dead in his tracks. He had known me long enough, as from time to time on our show, usually during a commercial break, something evil had snuck out of me but even he couldn't believe this came from a human. I saw him look towards the stockyards where the cattle and pigs were, thinking surely that must be the cause of the odor.
When he got to the tent, it was obvious the fair clearing out of visitors along the Midway was my fault. He asked me what the hell I had done and I explained I had seven or eight small bowls of chili. He reminded me that it was illegal in Illinois for me to eat more than one bowl.
The rest of the night didn't go well at home. I was relegated to the guest bedroom and made to swear on the Bible that I would never be a chili judge again. Even my son had to remark that I had outdone myself this time as he went into his room, closed the door and duct taped all the cracks around the doorway.
I never will do that again of course. I value my family more than a few bowls of chili. It would look pretty silly on a marriage dissolution that the reason for the divorce was because I was a chili judge. Although with just a few bowls my wife could easily prove her case to the judge; if he didn't run out of the courtroom first.
Freelance writer, columnist, author and writing coach, ex-Chicagoan Mike Fak presently resides in Central Illinois. More information about Mike's services are available at his home website www.mikefak.com
Mike currently writes primarily humor columns for searchwarp bi-weekly and is the managing editor of www.lincolndailynews.com
Hi Mike. This is a riot! How many ways can you say "fart" without saying fart? I feel for you, I do. You've given me the courage to go forward with an article I started the other day. Your articles always brighten my day.
Thank you Sue. Actually since I hardly drink anymore, I rarely have the problem. But there are limits of course like eating a giant pizza with everything is pushing the realm of realism. Thanks Mike
There comes a time in everyones life when they begin to stop caring how others view them. Men are especially proned to losing the gene that regulates the heights to which they hike up their pants, squashing the thought that it is a good idea to switch from white ankle socks to black knee highs when wearing shorts, and telling thousands of people all over the world they can generate smells worse than farm animals and then actually doing it.
Mike, please be sure to continue to shave the hair in your ears, have your money ready at check out lines and turn your blinker off after changing lanes. These small steps may reactivate the lost gene and allow you to think twice about the amount of information you wish to reveal about yourself...your poor dear wife.
Thanks Myla. Actually I like to pull nose hairs and ear hairs rather than cut them. It makes me feel alive again.I figure if I make fun of other people, I have to be fair enough to make fun of myself. Besides this story won't exactly pull me off the Cosmopolitan list of the fifty hottest guys.
» left by nancy green from Jonesboro, ar. (123 days 16 hours ago.)
I am still laughing over this article. It was a great take on a very serious condition for many of us. In my family, my husband is the culprit and I will add no chili cook-off judge to his list of corky no-no's. Very Funny and thank you for not using that other descriptive word for me.
Thank you Nancy. I grew up in the age of Milton Berl and Sid caesar and Red Skelton. They all made us laugh without a single foul or suggestive word. I humbly try to follow their lead. Mike
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