I'm a big State Fair person, and my main goal is to eat as much

Host: The State Fairgrounds stretched wide and noisy, alive with laughter, sizzling grills, and the sweet, smoky perfume of fried sugar and roasted meat. The sun hung low — late afternoon gold spilling over Ferris wheels and midway rides, catching glints off the polished chrome of food stands lined like shrines to indulgence.

Everywhere, there was movement — the hiss of deep fryers, the bark of carnival vendors, the thrum of country music leaking from speakers. The world was full, excessive, joyous.

Jack stood near a food stall, paper plate in hand, his shirt smudged with mustard and unapologetic delight. Jeeny stood beside him, clutching a lemonade, her eyes full of equal parts amusement and disbelief.

Jeeny: grinning “Alison McGhee once said — ‘I’m a big State Fair person, and my main goal is to eat as much food as possible, but I tend not to do the foods on a stick. But I like Big Fat Bacon.’”

Jack: laughing, mouth half full “Finally! A quote that understands the human condition.”

Jeeny: laughing back “The human condition? You mean the bacon addiction.”

Jack: pointing a fork at her like a philosopher in overalls “Exactly. Philosophy should taste like this — crispy, salty, slightly sinful.”

Host: Around them, the fair swelled — the air shimmering with heat and grease, the smell of kettle corn colliding with barbecue smoke, the faint metallic tang of the Ferris wheel spinning lazily above.

Jeeny: sipping her drink, teasing “You realize you’re turning a State Fair into a spiritual experience.”

Jack: mock-serious “Why not? Look around. This is the closest thing to democracy we’ve got left — kids, grandparents, farmers, city slickers — all united under one belief: calories don’t count if you’re having fun.”

Jeeny: laughing “I think McGhee would agree. There’s something honest about this. It’s not pretentious — it’s just people enjoying being alive.”

Jack: grinning “Exactly. You can’t fake joy at a fair. You can’t intellectualize a corn dog.”

Jeeny: with mock offense “She said she doesn’t do food on sticks.”

Jack: raising an eyebrow “She’s missing half the theology then.”

Jeeny: smiling warmly “Maybe she’s just honest enough to admit that bacon beats convenience.”

Host: A gust of fried air rolled by, carrying with it laughter, the sound of distant fireworks, and the faint call of someone selling lemon ice by the tent. A Ferris wheel creaked slowly into motion, each car a small, swinging capsule of happiness.

Jack: biting into his bacon again, contemplative now “You know, it’s funny. Everyone talks about slowing down, finding mindfulness — and yet here, surrounded by noise and chaos, people are more present than anywhere else.”

Jeeny: watching the crowd “Because joy doesn’t need quiet. It needs permission.”

Jack: smiling softly “And a lot of salt.”

Jeeny: grinning “And grease.”

Host: They both laughed — the kind of laugh that cuts through noise rather than competes with it. Children ran by with cotton candy taller than their faces, a teenager strummed a guitar near the lemonade stand, and someone in the crowd screamed on a roller coaster, half fear, half ecstasy.

Jeeny: thoughtfully, still smiling “You know what I love about that quote? McGhee’s not just talking about food. She’s talking about joy without guilt. About the kind of happiness that doesn’t need to be justified or earned.”

Jack: nodding, licking his fingers “Yeah. We spend too much of life managing our happiness like a budget — can’t have too much, can’t enjoy it too long, might look indulgent. But here, indulgence is the point.”

Jeeny: quietly “Exactly. Maybe that’s what the State Fair really celebrates — not excess, but permission. Permission to forget the rules and remember the senses.”

Host: The sky began to turn amber, streaked with pinks and purples that looked painted by hand. The Ferris wheel glowed in the distance, its lights flickering like a carousel of stars.

Jack: softly “You know, it’s funny — in a world that sells sophistication, this is where people seem most genuine. No filters. No perfection. Just… humanity on a sugar high.”

Jeeny: smiling “Exactly. The world spends all its time trying to be meaningful, but sometimes meaning’s just… laughter with greasy fingers.”

Jack: holding up his paper plate in mock toast “To Big Fat Bacon — philosopher of joy.”

Jeeny: raising her lemonade “To unpolished happiness.”

Host: Their glasses clinked softly, swallowed by the hum of the crowd. The first spark of a firework flared overhead, casting a brief, white brilliance across the fairgrounds. For a moment, everything stilled — faces tilted upward, mouths open in collective awe.

Then came the explosion of color, red and gold blooming across the night, followed by another, and another — the sky filling with celebration.

Jeeny: watching the fireworks “See? Even the sky’s overeating tonight.”

Jack: laughing quietly “Good. Maybe heaven’s got a sweet tooth.”

Host: The camera pulled back, capturing the sweep of the fair: the laughter, the fireworks, the lights spinning endlessly over a sea of faces — all of them, for a fleeting moment, free from worry, from weight, from the gray noise of the world beyond the fairground gates.

Because Alison McGhee was right —
joy doesn’t always need to be profound to be pure.

Sometimes happiness is fried,
served on paper plates,
and eaten with your hands.

Sometimes the sacred hides in the ordinary —
in laughter shared over something simple and human.

In a world obsessed with moderation,
it takes courage to savor.

And as Jack and Jeeny sat beneath the fireworks,
their faces bright with reflected light and laughter,
they understood that the feast of life
isn’t found in restraint —

but in the bold, delicious act
of being fully here,
grease-stained, unashamed,
and alive.