By late August, the whole State buzzed with talk about the Minnesota State Fair. Ads were everywhere—on the radio, in the Star & Tribune daily newspapers, even painted on the sides of city buses. The fair meant one thing to kids: Summer’s biggest adventure. And for Derrick and his friends it meant something even better—they were going on their own, without parents, for the first time. Almost on their own, anyway. Tony’s older brother, Alvin, agreed to go with them. At sixteen, he was old enough to be trusted and young enough not to ruin the fun. He lived for loud music, cars, and impressing anyone who would listen, so he was more excited than they were.
“Y’all listen,” Alvin said, gathering everyone at the bus stop on 38th Street. “Stay where I can see you. Don’t wander off. And don’t spend all your money at the first food stand.”
Marcus blinked. “Why not?”
“Because you’ll get hungry again in ten minutes,” Alvin said, rolling his eyes. “It’s the fair. Food everywhere.”
That made sense. The bus rumbled up, already half-full with passengers. Girls in bright summer dresses, parents with toddlers, teens dressed sharper than usual. The boys climbed on, buzzing with anticipation.
The moment they stepped through the fairgrounds entrance, the world exploded into color, sound, and smell. Kids screaming on rides. Music blasting from speakers. Games shouting: “WIN A PRIZE!” The smell of corn dogs, popcorn, cotton candy, and roasted corn all mixed into one perfect cloud.
“Man…” Marcus whispered. “This is heaven.”
Derrick walked slowly, eyes wide. He’d been to the fair before with his parents, but this felt different. Bigger. Louder.
Alvin laughed. “Where y’all wanna go first?”
Everyone said something different: “Food!” “No, the rides!” “No, corn dogs!” “No, the Midway!” “No, games!” “NO, FOOD!”
Alvin held up both hands. “We’ll do everything. Just stick together.”
They didn’t make it twenty feet before they got corn dogs, which they all liked better than pronto pups. They were fresh and hot. Derrick smothered his in mustard, then took a huge bite and closed his eyes. “Mmmmmmgood!
“This is… the greatest moment of my life.” Reggie said as he bit into his corndog.
“You said that on the Fourth of July,” Tony reminded him.
“This is better,” Reggie declared. “They got lemonades almost as tall as my little brother, then roasted corn with butter, then fried mini-donuts in that cinnamon sugar. Yeah baby”
After eating their corn dogs, they hit the Giant Slide. They raced up the steps, grabbed the burlap sacks, and whooshed down screaming. Marcus went crooked halfway, collided with Tony, and both wiped out at the bottom laughing so hard they could barely breathe. Next was the Tilt-A-Whirl, which nearly spun Derrick out of consciousness. “I can’t feel my brain,” he muttered, stumbling off.
“Your brain can’t feel you,” Kim teased from behind them. The girls had run into them by the rides—Kim, Nina, and Donna with two of their cousins.
Alvin groaned.
“Oh Lord… I’m watching out for twelve people now…” But he didn’t really mind.
The whole group went on the Scrambler, the Ferris Wheel, and a rickety ride that felt one half thrill and one half prayer. The Midway lights flashed everywhere—orange, red, blue, white. Game booths lined both sides, each one louder than the next. “STEP RIGHT UP!” “HIT THE MILK BOTTLES—WIN A PRIZE!” “TRY YOUR LUCK, YOUNG MAN!”
Marcus stopped dead in his tracks.
“I’m winning a goldfish,” he declared.
“You don’t even have a bowl at home,” Tony said.
“I’ll borrow one,” Marcus insisted. He tried the ring toss. Missed. Tried again. Missed again. Finally threw a ring so wildly, it landed on the ground near someone’s shoe.
“Y’all see that? Almost had it that time,” he said confidently.
Alvin paid for one attempt. He landed the ring on his first throw.
“Dang!” the boys shouted. Alvin handed the prize—a tiny goldfish in a plastic bag—to Marcus.
“There,” Alvin said. “Don’t let it die before we get home.” Marcus held the bag like it was a newborn baby.
By late afternoon the sky turned soft orange. Lights flickered on across the fairgrounds, turning everything magical. They went through the animal barns, laughing at goats climbing each other and a giant pig so big Marcus claimed it was “the size of a Buick.” They wandered through Machinery Hill, where Alvin stared lovingly at tractors and engines like they were artwork. The younger kids got bored until they found a giant tire they could climb on. They bought cotton candy so big it looked like a cloud had fallen out of the sky.
Derrick paused for a moment, looking out over the fairgrounds. The crowd, the noise, the lights, the feeling… it was a world all its own.
“Derrick!” Nina called. “Come on! We’re taking pictures!”
They squeezed into a photo booth—crowded in so tight that half of them weren’t even visible in the pictures. They came out laughing so hard Derrick had tears in his eyes.
Not long after, they noticed a crowd forming near the Midway entrance. People shouting. Someone running. A few police officers moving fast.
“Stay here,” Alvin said, his voice suddenly sharp. He grabbed the younger boys and pulled them slightly aside.
“What’s happening?” Leon asked quietly.
“Probably nothing,” Alvin said. “Let’s just give it space.”
They didn’t go near it—they didn’t need to. After a minute or two, the noise faded. People drifted again. The fair swallowed the moment, like it always did. But the kids exchanged glances—because even the fair, with all its magic, wasn’t completely separate from the world outside.
They ended the night watching fireworks explode over the fairgrounds—the big ones that crackled and bloomed into brilliant colors.
Donna leaned forward.
“These look way better than Powderhorn’s.”
“Everything here is better,” Marcus agreed.
The sky sparkled and boomed, reflecting in the eyes of every kid on the fairgrounds. Derrick felt it deep—like the whole summer was ending with a final burst of light.
They caught the 10 p.m. bus back to downtown Minneapolis, and then the number 9 back to the neighborhood. They were all tired and happy. The younger kids nodded off. Marcus fell asleep holding his goldfish like a trophy. Reggie leaned against the window, gazing into the night. Tony hummed one of the songs Alvin played earlier on his portable radio.
Derrick looked out at the passing street lights and felt something warm settle in his chest. This summer had been heavy at times. Scary. Beautiful. Loud. Full of change. But tonight? Tonight was pure fun. And he knew he’d remember this day—the rides, the food, the goldfish, the laughter—long after he was grown.