I walked into the park sometime around four, entering through one of the less popular gates. While it wasn’t that crowded where I was, in the distance I could hear the caterwauling of children and smell the beer-drenched shirts of their parents. As I got to the ticket-stall—entry was only $2.00 today—the unmasked ticket-buyers looked at me like I was a monster for intruding on their playtime.
It is September in Oklahoma City which means that all those of concerns about infectious spores and the like are forgotten about as our city welcomes the great state fair of Oklahoma, the state’s greatest possible super-spreader event since that Tulsa Trump rally. And then there’s me, walking through the gates with a mask tightly wrapped around my face.
As I went down the filling street towards the overflowing midway, past the children gleefully begging their parents to shell out untold dollars to ride the forlorn ponies, all of which were tied to a wall except for one that his head down, possibly out of embarrassment. I felt bad for them and wanted to free them—the ponies and the children—in an absolute act of rebellion, but I just kept walking.