Love at The State Fair of Texas

It was the State Fair of Texas in 1970, long before Big Tex learned to speak Spanish. My sophomore choir was attending the fair to perform on stage that evening along with choirs from all over the state.

I was excited because our performance would be followed by a concert featuring Burt Bacharach, whose song “Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head” was at the top of the charts. Burt Bacharach was darned good looking! I had an enormous crush on him.

Quite frankly, the annual trip to the State Fair (which meant an entire day of missing school) was the only reason to take Madeline Hemley’s music class. That, and my mother insisted. She had delusions that I could be a star.

Both of my brothers, with their smooth, rich voices, had been stars in all of the productions years before. Obviously my mother had never heard me sing in the shower. I croak like the frog who never turned into a princess.

Ms. Hemley was a stern taskmaster, and made us work hard at our music as if the class were more than a mere elective. It paid off, because our High School always had a winning choir … even the years I participated. “Madeline,” which is what we called her behind her back, looked like an old battle ax, but secretly we loved her. Even though we were teenagers, we recognized a teacher who cared.

I digress. I was intending to talk about love.

After we were herded off of the school bus at the fairgrounds that day, we rehearsed for thirty minutes on the stage. Then, our teachers set us free to roam the fair —unchaperoned— at our leisure all day. Our only requirement was that we show up in time for the concert and for the bus back home.

Two of my girlfriends and I set out to explore. We fancied ourselves were very cute and perky back then. I had my long hair cut in a “Farrah Fawcett” shag. That was the only thing about me that resembled her.

It didn’t take our trio but about thirty minutes to attract the attention of some young men from a different school. Three boys from Greenville noticed us and came over to say hello. We were paired off faster than you can say, “Jack Robinson.”

The fellow with whom I found myself wasn’t the handsomest of the bunch, but he had a great smile. Within the hour, we were holding hands and giggling over sodas together. We had to work fast, because we might only have the one day together. After all, his town was a jillion miles away from mine (OK, forty miles, but that seemed like a jillion).

As we strolled along through the area with the games, we stopped at a booth where you threw balls to knock down pins and win a prize. “My” fella paid his money and took his chances. Whoot! He knocked down all the pins (turns out he was the pitcher for his baseball team, as well as a singer)!

As his prize, he took an adorable stuffed snake. It was four foot long and made of plush, red, fake fur. With a twinkle in his eye, that boy took that snake and draped it around my neck. Yes! He gave me his snake — and if there were any veiled sexual undertones there, I was too naive to catch them.

I fell in love right there.

The rest of the day passed in a blur as we rode the ferris wheel, ate greasy foods, played games, and viewed the exhibits. The whole time, I had that red snake wrapped around my neck. Then, it was time to go to our respective groups to prepare to sing. A hurried kiss on the cheek, and promises to keep in touch, and we went our separate ways. I knew I would never see him again, which only made that love seem sweeter.

Our choir put on our robes and took our seats in the stadium. I was giddy with the thought of my new love — the boy from Greenville. I knew I would never forget him.

Our choir patiently listened to the first choir sing as we waited our turn. But, suddenly I felt the “call of nature.” My need to pee was so urgent that I had to risk The Wrath of Madeline!

I leaped from my seat and dashed up the steps to find a bathroom. On my way back, I discovered a crowd blocking the steps down to my choir. If I didn’t get back in time, Mrs. Hemley would strangle me! They wouldn’t move, and the clock was ticking. I began to push my way through them while shouting, “Excuse me, I have to sing!”

At the top of the steps, I tripped over a tall man standing there. Thankfully, he caught me by the wrist just before I fell. I turned to stare into the twinkling eyes of BURT BACHARACH!

I fell in love right there.

He took my hand and guided me to the steps. He said, “You are going to sing? So am I.” Then, the security guards whisked him away.

In shock, I returned to my seat. My choir performed, but I didn’t sing a note. I just stood there with my mouth open, staring at my hands where Burt Bacharach touched me! I don’t remember even hearing him perform that night. I was giddy with the thought of my new love — Burt Bacharach. I knew I would never forget him.

We got back on the school bus that night and waited for our driver to arrive. My girlfriends and I were giggling about Burt Bacharach, and I mean to tell you that they were all so jealous. They had to touch my hands where HE had touched them. I swore I would never wash my hands again!

Suddenly, outside the bus I heard someone calling my name. I looked out the window to see the boy from Greenville. I had forgotten that I loved him in all the excitement about Burt.

My friends whispered, “Talk to him! He’s real — Burt Bacharach isn’t!”

I leaned out the window and called him. He wasn’t as cute as Burt, but indeed he was real. Could it be that the boy from Greenville loved me, too? Was he really going to keep in touch with me? Would we date? Would we marry in a huge ceremony and settle down to have a big house, two cars, a dog, and 2.5 kids?

Nah.

He said, “Hey, could you give me that snake back? I want to give it to my sister.”

What the….!

I closed the window and ignored his shouting until our bus driver cranked up the motor and drove away. I named that snake “Grenville,” and I kept him for years until my toddlers tore him to pieces one day.

All I have left of that night are the memories … but I don’t think about that boy from Greenville. Heck, I don’t even remember his name! I remember that Burt Bacharach touched me!

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There is a new writing prompt called Take This Tune. Jamie said, “The idea is simple. I will post a video and the lyrics that go with it. Take the title or any part of the lyrics to tell a story. There are no limits, just go with the wherever the idea takes you.”

This is where her idea this week took me … to the State Fair of Texas. Check out her post and see where the idea takes you.

Other posts you might enjoy:

1. North Texas State Fair Parade
2. I Gave My Love A Cherry
3. Three Days of Peace, Love, and Armadillos
4. Texas Chainsaw Romance
5. Link Love–Stories Beget Stories

Tagged as: humor, Memories, Storytelling