No, internet. There is no duck racing at the PNE.

We finally made it to the Great Pacific National Exhibition yesterday, after a false start on Wednesday (wood flooring purchase in the morning + 27C heat + Trom “no nap -none at all!” bone = mama & daddoo in a melty puddle on the disgusting carpet saying “let’s eat chips for dinner” and “how about we try the pne on friday.”) Good decision on our part; yesterday was cool & did not actually rain on us while we were out.

On arriving I examined the Fair Guide carefully. I saw pig races listed. I saw the horse show, the Superdogs, the Peking Acrobats. I did not see duck races. Just as when Flying Wedge Pizza stopped making their “Spinach Fettucine Pizza” (sob) I stifled my disappointment and we moved on.

We proceeded to the Marketplace building, where SA went to pee and I pushed the stroller at -3 km/hr through throngs of people who were stopping to buy magic crystal nail files, fake tattoos and Tupperware. I saw the Miracle Shammy (TM) booth but did not ask whether or not a MS could aerodynamicize a duck, despite this being a very good question. We just kept moving, like chocolate bars on a conveyor belt. I saw SA’s hat about 50 feet ahead of me and followed it, watching as it grew further and further away. I cursed not having brought my cell phone. I overheard a man on his cell phone: “I’m by the booth with the Peruvian ponchos. No, YOU come HERE.”

Eventually we caught up to SA and beat a quick retreat from the Marketplace building. I purchased garlic fries and SA purchased Hunky Bill’s perogies. While Red Robinson in his Elvis shirt announced the beginning of the finals of his talent competition, Trombone seagulled half my fries and a lot of SA’s sour cream.

To the performance of an allegedly famous local singer songwriter (he writes hockey songs) we proceeded east to the animal barns. Trombone greeted all the horses, cows, etc. with his adorable, jaunty “Hello!” which became less jaunty and more insistent with each repetition. At the supermarket, you see, people answer him. At the barn, the Clydesdale just looks at you and keeps eating. (“Heh heh heh,” said the teenage boy to his friends, “that horse is eating from the OTHER ONE’s FOOD!” Hoo! That IS funny!)

Finally we moved through to the smaller animal barn. There were baby ducks, rabbits, goats, etc. While I was buying green tea/lemon verbena soap from the little farmer’s markety type store, a goat bleated in Trombone’s face and he decided he’d had enough of nature. So we proceeded east towards Playland WHICH SOUNDED LIKE THIS ALL THE WAY THROUGH IT HOLY GOD THE HUMANITY.

Oh and we ate 48 mini donuts, of which Trombone got one.

SA bet his annual $2 on the roulette and did not win.

I debated buying cotton candy and eventually decided against it.

We traipsed back to the home improvement pavilion so that SA could visit the Quantum Knights. They eyed him suspiciously because he has no beard this year so doesn’t look all crazy like them.

Trombone needed some running around time so we hit a green patch and let him wander off while a Polynesian dance troupe danced and a Polynesian man sang songs, one of which he claimed was an ancient love song written by a Hawaiian man for his wife but which sounded exactly like “Michael, Row the Boat Ashore.”

I picked up some Kettle Corn and we trekked back out & up the hill & back to the car & on the highway & home we were.

I know. Not a single ride, not a Superdog show, not a lineup for the Dream House (though as we walked by, SA said loudly, “I hear Tamara Taggart’s in the kitchen with her new baby,” [ Tamara Taggart being a local media celebrity who recently gave birth to her first child and we, being subscribers to TV Week Magazine and having been subjected to a twelve page spread of photos from her baby shower and this after a twelve page spread of photos from her wedding the year before, feeling entitled to talk about her as an acquaintance] and that gave us great jolility.) Those traditional PNE things just aren’t fun with a 14 month old. They are fun WITHOUT a 14 month old and they are fun with an older kid, but at Trombone’s age, you can only buy so much time with fried foods before you have to cut your losses.

And anyway, there was no duck racing. The fair has been soured.

But here’s the video from 3 years ago’s duck racing.

Duck racing!Duck racing! from tortured potato and Vimeo.

And a picture of this year’s ducks followed by a picture of Trombone’s face stuffed with perogy.