Megan Weisenberger

As a native North Dakotan, I wasn’t sure what to expect when I was instructed to go “make cultural observations” at this year’s Minnesota State Fair, the behemoth state get-together that attracts 1.8 million people – a cool 34 percent of the entire state’s population – every year.

At its roots, the Minnesota State Fair is a shared experience for a diverse range of people. An event that rolls around every year like clockwork. Individuals enter the gates and become part of a sweaty mass of humanity, united under the shared goal of celebrating the last golden days of summer, determined to sweeten the transition into cooler months by consuming buckets of Sweet Martha’s cookies.

Most articles written about the fair tend to focus on the food (chocolate-covered jalapeños, new this year!), and god knows I love mini doughnuts for breakfast. But as an account planner at C+M, I’m far more interested in the people who go to the fair and what makes them tick.

Within the masses, I noticed that there are two very distinct groups of people: those who merely go to the fair and those who spend every waking moment outside this two-week period fantasizing about the fair.

Those who merely go to the fair seem to approach the event as something they feel they’re supposed to attend, a duty of being a citizen of this fine state. They may go because it’s a tradition in their family, albeit one with some of the novelty and shine worn off over the years. They may go because they’re bored one night, or they may go because their friends and family are diehards trying to get them equally enthused about the fair.

No matter what their reason for attendance is, these people stand out. They’re the ones looking hot and miserable after an hour or two, the ones flatly refusing to play along with the clowns and the ones taking up every square inch of bench real estate. They’re the ones who are perfectly content consuming a simple hot dog and a bottle of water in the shade as the rest of the fairgoers bustle past them. They’re not fair curmudgeons, by any means, and usually go with the best of intentions.

But at the end of the day, the fair doesn’t do a lot for them. They get more out of watching a loved one joyfully consume a Pronto Pup than they do out of actually eating one themselves.

The people who go all out, however, are incredibly fun to watch. These are the ones who eagerly await the fair for 11 months. The ones who rush in with their unbridled energy and their Minnesota State Fair iPhone app, eager to soak up the sounds, tastes and smells of this glorious event through every orifice.

These are the older women in bejeweled t-shirts and glittery visors, the couples sharing romantic moments in matching duck crowns, and the parents of sparkly haired little girls wielding plastic swords. Love for the fair is evident in those who have worked the entire year to create the masterpieces found in the craft barn, in those on the admirable quest to grow the state’s largest pumpkin, and in those who merely delight in the culinary art of continuously finding new things to fry and put on a stick.

This story completely delighted me: In 2008, a group of Minnesota ex-pats got together and created Minnesota State Fair Day in New York City, an oasis for Midwesterners homesick for the taste of cheese curds and corn on the cob. For its first year, nine plucky souls ventured into New York City, looking for anything-on-a-stick they could find. This year, the event sold out, with hundreds of ex-Minnesotans wearing Twins gear, gathering together to eat chocolate-covered bacon and reminisce about the real deal. The event featured a contest for best butter sculpture and a food-on-a-stick competition, judged by Al Franken. In the Senator’s words, “It was heartening to see so many Minnesotans in New York who still love to celebrate the traditions of our home state.”

My takeaway from all of this is that whether you love it or hate it, the fair is important — a triumphant celebration of all that is inherently Midwestern. This 157-year-old event is still growing, is important to young people and is so ingrained in Minnesota’s culture that even the people who don’t want to come … still come.