Goddammit, I Don't Want To Fucking Hate The Fair Now

I didn't go to the State Fair between my teens and late twenties because 1) I thought I was too cool for school for it and 2) I hate crowds.  I have come to learn to love the crowds, mostly because it was great for watching families enjoy their time together.  But days like yesterday remind me that crowds are, well, crowds, and my misanthropy meter got so high it made me regret making the decision to burn a ticket I bought at a discount before the Fair began and squeeze in a couple hours there after work so I could try some of the new foods.

Everything went swimmingly until a series of things around, I think, the Food Building.  It was freakin' crowded everywhere on the Fairgrounds, but apparently moreso around there.  You know what?  It's best for me to explain what happened -- and to process my feelings -- by bullet points:

• I almost got knocked over by the fastest of, apparently, a group of workers at the cheese curd place inside the Food Building.  Now, I was walking one way with my head turned to look at something.  When I turned back, this teenage shit was crossing in front of me.  My momentum was going to get my body passed in front of him or result in a collision.  But somehow I contorted my body to go around and behind him.  Not even a thank-you from that millennial.  I guess I was in the wrong, but you could've been a Minnesotan and stopped, too.  And I got curds from that place Thursday -- could he have been the one serving me?  Dick.
• Then, the leader of a group of people marched past me.  He didn't cross in front of me.  But he marched with a sense of self-righteousness.  He had a lot of balls for walking so briskly as he was encountering a sea of people where that purposeful gait would get him nowhere.  I don't know why such an attitude pisses me off, but in that situation, a guy like him, even if he didn't run into me or invade my personal space, that just sets me off.
• You know who did run into me?  This woman.  Again, I was turned around while walking forward.  Suddenly I feel a wham! and the two small cups of Leinenkugel's samples I got were spilled onto my hawaiian shirt as I dropped the cups.  This woman did a quarter-turn with her head, said "Sorry" barely audible to me and didn't miss a beat as she walked away.  I looked back at where she came from (well, after I looked down and picked up the cups) and there was no one, and I mean no one, that would have somehow forced her to hit me.  Maybe she's a bitch, maybe she's clumsy, maybe she's both.

ARGH!!!

See, this makes me not want to go back to the Fair -- well, more than I have to; I am co-manning the Mensa booth tomorrow and I have a second ticket I bought.  But I wanted to on, say, Friday evening, just because, and now I'm thinkin', Eh, maybe I'll get into a fistfight with some guy who runs into me, so nah.  And I don't want to feel this way because, like I said, the best thing about the Fair is the number of people.  I just don't want them fucking running into me!

This can't be the last memory I have of the Fair.  I know it's not the Fair's fault, and I want to (for lack of a better phrase) make this right, but I can't keep, you know, loving it if I continue to have assholes run into me.  Shit.