2 hours aboard the slowest ride at the fair for a bird’s-eye view of America
PERRY — It was two hours and three minutes to be exact. Our reporter aboard the Agri-Lift chairlift ride pleasure-cruised his way back and fourth 24 times across a span of 1,400-plus feet of Georgia National Fair airspace.
All in the name of observing a cross section of what this annual exposition along I-75 in the heart of the Peach State has to offer.
The Agri-Lift ride, now in its 25th fair season, is a nostalgia sail. Similar to the old Sky Buckets that for half a century conveyor-cabled across Six Flags Over Georgia, such attractions were birthed in an era when seeing things from above was still something of a novelty.
The Agri-Lift, lolling along at 2 mph, ferries passengers point to point in about nine minutes. Traveling between the fair’s focal-point clock tower to a southerly entry gate, it is the antithesis of the Plane Train at Hartsfield. It is in no hurry at all.
A voyage on this hayride in the sky will set you back $10 one way and $15 for a round trip. When it first opened in 2001, officials described it as “a new way to see the fair.” And a bunch more.
A skyward-facing sign on the ground along the ride’s northerly ascent warns, “Bouncing, throwing objects, or spitting will result in ejection.” From the grounds, not the lift.
You almost can’t miss how, amid the glut of flashing lights and blaring speakers, midways and fair-food thoroughfares still rely on the currency of words.
Words in bulging, eye-popping fonts.
BOURBON CHICKEN. JUMBO TURKEY LEGS. PORK BELLY. HOT HONEY. LOBSTER MAC N CHEESE. WALKING TACOS. SHRIMP BUCKET.
Another thing you notice is lemonade. Or, rather, LEMONADE. There are more than 50 bold-lettered signs and flags peddling it. In fact, every other food stand seems to advertise it. “Fresh Squeezed,” sans hyphens but pure profit. Sugar, water and lemons in mugs large enough to plant ferns.
And, no, you can’t escape politics on the Agri-Lift.
Down the way from a boxcar-size Western-attire emporium — “Belts-Buckles-Hats,” which features more leather than the cattle hall — sits a booth affiliated with the Democratic Party of Georgia. (Republicans have an indoor stand.) The people staffing the Democrats’ outpost at the fair in this largely red region said passersby had been largely civil.
Huts nearby hawk coolers, scooters, mattresses, lawn mowers, tractors and the ever-curious hot tubs. A salesmen at the hot tub stand said that at the fair they get their wares in front of “a lot more traffic” than they do in stores. Another tub seller added that it makes perfect sense to sell hot tubs at the fair because “they sell everything at the fair.”
Perhaps it is that folks are mesmerized by the excess during what amounts to a mini vacation from reality. Fairgoers are loose, giddy, as prone to impulse buys as timeshare prospects at the beach.
Aboard the Agri-Lift, you’ll also soar over a trailer spinning $25-a-bag, “Monster-Size” cotton candy.
You’ll fly over the Midway Stop-N-Shop Grocery, a convenience store in a trailer that appears to serve the needs of fair workers. The marquee declares, “Drinks-Laundry-First Aid-Beauty.” When asked about the “Beauty” part, a clerk explained that it refers to “combs, brushes, ponytail holders, shampoo, conditioner, deodorant.”
At a maximum altitude of maybe 40 feet, whatever else one might spy depends on how much one looks for. Which, according to an unscientific sampling of passing riders, wasn’t a lot.
A pair of teenagers on a high school field trip floated past in an oncoming chair and were asked if they’d seen anything along the way. They shook their heads.
A man and a woman came next. Same question. “Not too much.”
Then two more high schoolers, who replied, “Like, what?”
Well, the apparition that is fair world. The fleeting glories of fried Oreos, of Robinson’s Racing Pigs, of pork belly in a cone, of Jolly Rancher slushes, of Wildlife Wendy, she and her tropical birds. And all the people down there with the things that wow them.
About the Author
Joe Kovac Jr. is Macon bureau chief covering Middle Georgia for The Atlanta Journal-Constitution.
