Baboon Lagoon, Sadie and the Minnesota nod

By MARY JO NELSON

© St. Petersburg Times, published February 4, 2001

It's State Fair time. I think you should all go. I'm staying home.

I'm not going anywhere near the place. Last year, I assisted my friend Brion with his jewelry booth. I was there 11 days straight. I was trapped in a craft exhibition across from an entertainment called Baboon Lagoon.

Baboon Lagoon is a stage where one set of primates entertains another. Which group gets the most entertainment out of the situation is debatable. Which group is more trainable and attractive is debatable. Which group is more astonishing in its sartorial splendor is not. Humans win, paws down.

Like the purple tie-dyed grandparents, a pair of bouncy Buddhas dipped in grape juice. They stopped by to browse the jewelry and told us their grandson sleeps in a tie-dyed bassinet. Or the plump strawberry blond on a red tricycle. She pedaled up and down the aisles in one of those puffy-sleeved, billowing Gone With the Wind dresses. She had forgotten her bloomers. It was a very tall trike. Or the skinny, elderly man in green suspenders and those ubiquitous plaid bermuda shorts who stopped at our booth to borrow our mirror. Used a toothpick to work something out of his uppers.

But making fun of public fashion in this state is not challenging, and it should probably not be done by a person who spray paints her tennis shoes gold. What is challenging, if you are planning to attend the fair, is getting access to a restroom stall during peak attendance hours.

Now you might want to take notes, because I am about to share with you a tip gleaned from my days of indentured servitude: You have to bribe the most important person at the fair.

The most important person at the Florida State Fair, and I am including Jeb or any other Bush who might drop in over there, is a woman named Sadie. She controls access to 32 biffy ladies restrooms just off the entrance to the crafters' exhibition hall.

She is seated inside the doorway of the ladies' john. At least I think there is a stool under her. She is gatekeeper second in importance only to St. Peter. And when you have to get in there, not even St. Peter can help you.

Sadie controls the ebb and flow of foot traffic with constant patter. "Move along now, ladies! We got you a seat here! Let's keep it flowing now, ladies. No. 6 is open now. Don't block the way there!"

St. Peter help you if you do block the way. I'd rather annoy Saddam Hussein.

I wonder if Sadie was a cheerleader a thousand years ago in high school. Her voice reverberates inside the tinny boxes. "Let's go with the flow, ladies! You can do it. Keep it movin' there!" For most of us, it's been a long time since someone cheered this particular activity.

I left a big tip. I smiled ingratiatingly. I would have pulled on my forelock if I knew what a forelock was.

I hustled past the sign booth, past REDNECK PARKING, ALL OTHERS USE DRIVEWAY, past I SHOULD BE LIVING LIFE IN THE FAST LANE BUT I'M MARRIED TO A SPEED BUMP, past LIFE IS LIKE A LADDER IN A CHICKEN COOP -- SHORT AND never mind the rest of that one.

I went right to the homemade fudge and bought a six-piece bribe and took it back to Sadie. She piled the fudge on top of a teetering stack of other bribes. I wanted her to remember me. I wanted her to like me. I wanted to be her best friend.

On the way back to the jewelry booth, a woman wearing a Minnesota tag on her lapel asked me directions to the ladies' room. We had this conversation:

"So you're from Minnesota!" (me)

"Ya!" (her)

"Ya! I'm from Minnesota!"

"Oh, ya? Where?"

"Ya. From St. Paul. But I was born in Bemidji."

"Ya! Bemidji! All those lakes."

"Ya."

"Ya."

"I'm from Rochester."

"Oh, ya. Rochester. And so you're looking for the restroom, ya?"

"Ya."

The whole time we're nodding our heads like they're mounted on springs. We sounded like we were auditioning for Fargo II.

"Ya," I said. "It's right over there, ya know."

So have a good time. Don't get confused about which side of the curtain you should be on over at the Baboon Lagoon. Wear your most interesting outfit. And don't forget to tip, ya.

I'm staying home.

Mary Jo Nelson lives in St. Petersburg. She is, as she puts it, in "unstructured work."

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