Sandbox

When I went to the North Carolina State Fair last week, I had a disturbing experience that haunted me for days. And no, it didn’t involve fried food.

I’ve always been one for exploring the dark, mysterious corners of life that people say one should avoid, and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the fruits of my curiosity. I’ve been pulled over by a soldier at Area 51. I’ve walked the streets of Johannesburg by myself at night and enjoyed the conversations with poor street vendors. I’ve walked through the slums of Belém, also by myself at night, to try to take a dip in the Amazon River. So far, thankfully, I’ve never had any regrets. Until now.

I went to see “The World’s Smallest Woman” at the State Fair. I don’t really know what I was expecting; perhaps a robot or someone with her head stuck into a puppet of sorts. I was hoping for some sort of gimmick, and I was sorely disappointed. Once I handed over my dollar, I approached from the rear and saw a real human head. My friend and I panicked a bit but decided to take the plunge. We could only bear to run by. There sat a very diminutive black woman, dressed in normal clothes, clutching a water bottle presumably to wash down the snack she had just grabbed from the nearby cooler. There sat a human being. Neither the woman nor I were able or willing to establish eye contact; the fluttering of eyelashes said it all: Both of us knew we shouldn’t be there. It was a temple of embarrassment and shame.

The fact that our society still allows such freak show displays is dispicable, but their enticing mysteries will continue to lure curious thrill-seekers like myself. This is an unhappy addition to my repertoire of life experiences, but I suppose it’s good to have it under my belt. Perhaps it will provide valuable insight in the future. I’m just really glad I didn’t go see Spider Woman.

—Andrew O’Rourke