The State Fair is Minnesota’s version of a pilgrimage. For the past 150 years, hundreds of thousands of Minnesotans have journeyed to the fairgrounds to celebrate a sacred and time-honored tradition: stuffing one’s face with food, then running around to see what else the fair has to offer. The State Fair has something for everyone, and families can let go and enjoy themselves.

As a kid, I thought the fair had the best of everything: amazing food, barns full of animals, exhilarating amusement park rides, and fun-filled parades. This sensory overload, heightened by the scents of the fair, was heavenly; each year presented a new variation of the multi-layered aroma of mini-donuts and cheese curds. For lunch, my sisters, brother, and I got Pronto Pups and ran around the fair in our tie-dye shirts, corn dogs in hand. Food was a religion on its own: we saw people eat alligator-on-a-stick, spam burgers, and chocolate chip cookie beer to prove their piousness. My childhood favorite was the Sweet Martha’s stand, where they sell buckets of freshly-made chocolate chip cookies that pair perfectly with a cup of all-you-can-drink milk (from the cow). For a kid, this milk and cookies combo is the closest we can get to seeing the divine. Looking back, I am unsure if the fair truly lived up to its many superlatives, or if my childhood self simply saw the world through rose-colored glasses. Now that I’m older, I don’t notice the cotton candy-perfumed air, but the overpowering smell of farm animals instead. The food I once loved –sweet, savory, fried, on a stick– causes my stomach to churn. And although I still love chocolate chip cookies and milk, I no longer desire to eat a bucket full of them in one sitting without a Lactaid handy. They say gluttony is a sin. Not for kids at the State Fair. 

When I was young, I was oblivious to the downsides of navigating a fairground full of thousands of people. Now, meandering through the fair, milkshake in hand, I notice parents calculate exactly how much sugar is too much to give their child and the packs of teenage girls roaming around looking for their next Instagram pic. I know I graduated from the ranks of child to adult when the barns full of farm animals no longer appealed to me. As a kid, I loved running around the livestock-filled barns, giving a prayer to the animals on their judgement day of skill or beauty. My siblings and I became pros at sneaking a few affectionate pats of the various farm animals when no one was looking, petting the animals without any thought to washing our hands after. At the fair as an adult, I make sure to bring hand-sanitizer. 

The afternoon parade concludes each day, where all the fair attendees in attendance assemble to watch marching bands and Princess Kay of the Milky Way (crowned via a uniquely Minnesotan pageant competition) dance or float their way through the fair. Crowds line up on the sides of streets that criss-cross the fairgrounds, the mingled scents of sunscreen, sweat, and afternoon fatigue perfuming the air. As a kid, the bubble of optimistic youthfulness protected me from focusing on the negative parts of the parade. The heat, crowds of people, and noise didn’t bother me, all I cared about was being acknowledged by Princess Kay. She’s the closest thing the Minnesota State Fair has to a saint, with a commissioned bust made out of butter on display at the fair. The logistics and hygiene of maintaining a butter sculpture in 90 degree heat never crossed my mind as a child, but go without saying through the eyes of an adult. 

Now, I look back on this yearly pilgrimage and question if it really was that fun after all. There are a lot of great parts of Minnesota to explore instead –one of the 10,000 lakes, the bustling music and food scene of the Twin Cities, and the state’s reputation for Minnesota-Nice– so why did my family insist on attending a crowded, smelly, overpriced fair with four kids in tow? I think it’s because of the deep tradition and faith inherent to any pilgrimage – why else would you embark on a long, arduous journey? Going to the Great Minnesota Get-Together represents something sacred for Minnesotans. I’m sure I will find myself bringing my kids to the State Fair in years to come, hoping to see the fair as I once did, through the eyes of a child.