As a former theme-park worker, you’d think that the State Fair of Texas would be a no-brainer. And, after hearing of the park’s iconic Big Tex when I worked on “King of the Hill”, I was intrigued by the possibilities in Dallas. Growing up, fairs weren’t much of a Brown family destination. We were more your theme-park family, although we did attend the 1982 World’s Fair in Knoxville (the one with the Sunsphere, for you “Simpsons” geeks).

As Sara’s 35th birthday grew closer, we decided that a trip to Dallas to see Mary Poppins would be the perfect gift, as well as a needed break from the kids. The Theater at Fair Park is, ironically, conveniently located on the fairgrounds, so we’d be treated to musical theater and time at the fair. I snagged tickets 6 rows from the stage (goodbye college for Casey) and booked a room. We were set. Nothing could damper the mood, not even if one of the biggest college football games of the year took place on the same day.

Oops.

Neither the wife or I are college football fans. We didn’t go to big universities with NCAA athletic programs. To suddenly start rooting for a team we have no vested interest in is akin to rooting for someone else’s kid in Babe Ruth league. And yet, we found ourselves attending the Texas State Fair the same day 96,009 Longhorn and Sooners fans would be squeezing into the Cotton Bowl fun.

Undaunted, we arrived in Downtown Dallas around 10:45am, a good 15 minutes before game time. Assuming that most people would be at the game, we found ourselves waiting for the brand spankin’ new DART rail Green line along with those 96,009 running really late fans. With the DART system being completely overwhelmed, our two mile journey from downtown to the Fair took almost 90 minutes.

Many adjectives spring to mind when one things of the Texas State Fair. Obese is one. Fried is the other. Not that there were large amounts of fat people, but obese in the sense of excessive. It’s like they complied every imaginable food, carnival game, carnival ride, merchandising booth… and weren’t satisfied. Even though it’s outdoors, there’s no room to breath. I’m not claustrophobic, but I was at the fair.

The other adjective, fried, is what the fair is known for. Every possible delicacy is lightly battered, dipped in hot oil, and offered up for public consumption. You had fried Oreos, fried Twinkies, fried moon pies, fried pecan pie, fried chicken, fried cheesecake, deep fried peaches & cream, fried peanut butter cups, and the mother of them all.. fried butter. Just hearing those two words in the same sentence makes me conjure up visions of Paula Dean happily tossing packages of Land O Lakes into giant vats of oil.

Fried Pecan Pie

I’m not the healthiest eater in the world, but I kept my batter intake to a mere corn dog. Sara opted to try the fried pecan pie, which garnered mixed reviews. I guess going to the State Fair and not eating something fried is like going to Legal’s Sea Food and ordering chicken. My doctor and my arteries would be proud of me.

After soaking in the atmosphere, we headed over to the Music Hall to our 2:00 “Mary Poppins”. The Music Hall gets my vote as the Worst Possible Theater I’ve Ever Been To. A gorgeous feat of architecture on the outside, the lobby and hall itself are tragically designed in “1972 Renovation” . The massive hall is a black box with seats. No design, no architecture. My garage has more ambiance.  The orchestra bit rivals only the Grand Canyon when it comes to width. While we were 6 rows from the stage, the performers seemed like they were in Ft. Worth.

Thankfully, nothing mattered when the show started. “Mary Poppins” was (using the cheap line) practically perfect. It’s not a scene-by-scene recreation of the movie. On the contrary, many of the memorable scenes or settings from the film (Penguin waiters, Horse racing in the park, tea parties on the ceiling) are gone. The musical merges the original novels with the notable songs in a way that, frankly, comes off better than the movie in many ways. The roles of George and Winifred Banks are fully fleshed out. The Banks children are brats instead of victims of circumstances. Bert becomes the narrator, not just the comic relief. The familiarity is there, and it’s a great show.

Major props to the choreographer on two particular numbers. “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” is a dizzying display of “handy” work (those who have seen it know). “Step In Time” is also an test to synchronizing yet differentiating 25 performers on stage in a large number. It really worked. By far my favorite number was “Feed the Birds”. It got really cold in the theater during this performance. It’s the only reason why I’d become overwhelmed with goosebumps. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

The only blemish on the performance was, sadly, the audience. I’m used to seeing shows in Boston, New York and Los Angeles, where people make an effort to dress up at the theater. In Dallas, dressing up means Tony Romo jersey (worn by a woman) or Velour track suit. The young couple sitting next to us thought it appropriate to tweet during the performance. If Sara had felt better, I think that iPhone would have been tossed into the orchestra pit. And finally, the curious case of the people who exited the performance before the curtain call. Between the ugly theater and ugly audience, future performances at the Music Hall are under review. If we see “Shrek: The Musical”, we’ll see a night performance on a day OTHER than the Red River Shootout.

Won this after playing Whack A Mole

Remember those 96,009 people that rode with us TO the fair? Well, they all wanted to ride AWAY from the fair at the same time we did. Hoping that the line would die down, we decided to wander the midway. This was your carnival on steroids featuring all your favorite rides, complete with toothless Carnies. Remember the Hurl-O-Whirl, Tilt-And-Puke, Vomit Comet, Swinging Barf Machine, Death Wheel and Let’s Just Drop You 900 Feet Swings? They’re all at the fair. The impossible to win games? Yep. Sara didn’t let me see the 1500 Year Old Alligator. Bitch.

When we returned to the DART station, we were faced with a dilemma: Wait in a 90 minutes line for a train, or walk 2 miles back to the car. Even though she’d been fighting a cough and virus for the past week, Sara never complained once during that walk back to downtown. Keep the extra $8 DART and buy more trains.

In all, the State Fair of Texas wasn’t horrific. As we wallowed with the burnt orange and maroon-red masses, we commented that this might be a fun place to take the boys when they’re older. It’s something you need to see to fully understand.

To sum up, it was a Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious weekend. Yes, I went there.

If you’re going to spend time with your kids, you might as well dump hundreds of gallons of water on them.

Rare is the day that each member of the Brown clan is gathered around the same table or piled into the Civic. Dinner is (usually) over by the time I get home from work. I drop off at the day care. Sara picks up. I’ll take Casey to the lake while Sara runs to the grocery store with Kieran. Movie going takes place in “Morning Ralph. Morning Sam” type-shifts. She hits the 11:15 am show, while I hit a 9:30 pm showing. Divide and conquer.

It’s not that we don’t want to spend time as a family. It’s just that the activities we do together are, as they say back in the old country: Lame. I pitied the poor furniture salesmen who tried to up-sell us on couches as Casey threw fits about not being able to perform his Cirque du Soleil-like routines on display models (he has an exclusive performance at “O” at the Bellagio through October). Dinners out can be delightfully tolerable or an act of public torture. I should feel bad about shoving my iPhone in my son’s face so he can watch “Wall-E” for the millionth time while I shove my five alarm fire burger in my mouth. I don’t.

As you can see, getting the four of us together takes an act of congress. Or a theme park.

Central Texas isn’t known for its plethora of amusement parks. Longhorns, football stadiums and WalMarts, sure. But for those of us weaned on $5 churros and stroller parking, we have Six Flags and Sea World. Seeing most members of our party wouldn’t opt for Goliath and other amusements (damn height limits), Sea World is our park of choice.

Unless you live inside the Magic Kingdom, then your kids don’t get exposed to the craziness of roller coasters or gigantic costumed characters. It could be the coolest thing they’ve ever seen, or something that gives credence to their wild monsters in the closet tales. All you can do is strap them in and see how their diaper looks afterwards.

For Casey, it was time to prove he’s Evil Knievel in pull-ups.

I vividly remember the time my parents had to drag me, literally, onto Big Thunder Mountain. Not sure if it was my first roller coaster, but there’s something about being terrified that sticks with you. While the Shamu Express is no Space Mountain, Casey was more than happy to take on his first coaster. I’m guessing he didn’t quite know how to feel on the ride, since he neither cried nor laughed. Guessing it was that fun sort of terror you feel when eating a McRib sandwich or watching “Clean Sweep”.
On the other hand, the cargo nets were extremely terrifying. For his mom. Keep in mind that Casey gets intimidated crawling around those playground contraptions at fast food joints. You can imagine the terror in Sara’s face as her spunky three year old climbed a 40 foot cargo net, then proceeded to crawl around the rickety and dangling web of crawl tubes. Not once did he stop and cry for dad to climb up and get him. It’s one thing to be headstrong. It’s another to crawl around tiny spaces and battle 6 year-olds, all the while dangling above the concrete.

Amongst the dolphin shows and walking penguins, the part of Sea World the entire family is able to partake is the Lost Lagoon Waterpark. Granted, Sara and Kieran usually stay in the kiddie pool for the duration of our visit. Just the fact that all four of us can wade around the same pool qualifies as family time.

It’s fun to watch Kieran waddle walk through the pool, unsure of where he is or how he got there, like a UT student on 6th Street. Climbing on a fiberglass starfish or turtle seems to come naturally to him. Him and a wading pool are a perfect fit. The same can’t be said of his baggy swim trunks, however.

As it turns out, big brother is a bit too big for the kiddy pool. The wave pool seems too tame. So, on our past few trips Casey and I have spent our time at the Splash Zone, a three story fun house that serves one purpose: dump as much water on you as possible.

Splash Zone constantly pummels you with water from every direction. You walk thru water, dump water onto others and in general, soak yourself more than humanly possible. As Casey climbs up and down the stairs in his bright orange life jacket, you can see his tiny brain taking in the absurdity of it all. He seems to get the harmless fun of being drenched, of spilling water onto the unknowing passersby.

The joy of Sea World is that it’s one of the few things that my boy and I can enjoy together. He can’t sit though nine innings of baseball like I can. He doesn’t quite get video games. Keep in mind that Casey and I share the “Must Be Doing Something This Very Minute” disease. Many people consider watching TV, typing on the laptop and listening to their iPod at the same time “multitasking”. I call this “a slow evening”. In many ways, the fact we can spend a few hours in the water together is a huge milestone. Thanks to Sea World, the four of us are able to spend a few quality hours together.

Yes, we could just set up the sprinkler in the backyard and save the gas money and admission fees. Sometimes you need to get away from the house.

It’s instant fun. Just add water.