I have attended the Central Washington State Fair every year since my family moved here in 1977. I've even worked every single day of the fair for the radio station many times.  Of the myriad days I have attended, one stands out above all others.

I was about 10 years old. Probably fourth grade. I, along with my buddies Kyle Laughery and Christopher Wiehl, were permitted to go to the fair for the first time ever without a parental chaperone. My folks gave me 20 bucks and told me to have fun. And I did. For a while. Until the infamous "Keilbasa on the Octopus Incident," that is.

My friend Chris, who is now an actor in L.A., was always a tall, slender chap. My chum Kyle was stockier. Built a bit like a Coke machine. We basically spent our entire time on the midway, trying to hit as many rides as possible (it was "Snyder's Day," after all!) in the time allotted before the Laugherys were to pick us all up.

Chris kept haranguing us to get in line for the "Octopus" ride. You may remember it also as the "Spider." I kept putting him off and tried to tell him that it was a wimpy ride that simply went around and around and that we could not possibly waste precious time on a "kiddie" ride such as this. Eventually, Chris wore us down and we got in line.

Being the smallest and skinniest of the three of us, I was relegated to sitting the hump.  Stuck in the middle. Riding "bitch," if you will. As the ride made its first few revolutions, I tried to turn to Chris to say, "See!  I told you this ride sucks!" but just as I was about to chide him, he squinted his eyes at me and proceeded to open his mouth and let fly with the most disgusting concoction imaginable. A fountain of kielbasa sausage, sauerkraut and stomach bile was projectile vomited all over my beloved Seahawks Starter jacket and the crotch area of my Levis.

I screamed at the top of my lungs to stop the ride every time we circled by the crackhead ride operator, but to no avail. He could not hear my cries over the blaring speakers pumping out Asia's "Heat of the Moment."  The ride, which seemed like an eternity, finally came to a merciful halt.

Needless to say, our night was over prematurely.  I'm not sure if I was more mad at him for causing us to have to leave early or the fact that I was covered in stinky, chunky puke.

As we walked down the midway trying to find a bathroom where I clean up somewhat, I could not help but realize an ancillary benefit to being covered in vomit: I had never made it from one end of the fairgrounds to the other with such ease and speed.

When you are doused in puke, PEOPLE WILL GET OUT OF YOUR WAY!
It was as if I were Moses himself, parting the Red Sea!

While I do not recommend this tactic for beating the crowd, it is most certainly effective, and it was my most memorable day at the Central Washington State Fair!

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