Andrew Wheeler and I were making our way down the Grand Concourse at the Iowa State Fairgrounds. It was a little after 8:30 in the morning, on the second Thursday of the fair. There were several people about, but it was hardly a crowd by State Fair standards.

Our walk took us past a whole smorgasbord of culinary adventures.  Some fried, some on a stick, some fried on a stick. The vendors were already open and eagerly anticipating the crowd the late morning would surely bring. I was sure the crowd would bring their appetites, but I was without mine.

We were on our way to the Crystal Studio, which houses 1040 WHO Radio during the fair. At this time it was occupied by their popular morning show hosts, Van and Bonnie, and I was going to have to come up with something to say to them.  I was nervous.

It was a good thing Wheeler was with me. He’s particularly gifted in making smooth, easy conversation, and being able to engage in it made things better. Our talk made its way to the background of my mind, while it’s foreground searched for something else to occupy it other than being nervous.

I caught a sign for Dipping Dots. I decided I would try humor. The tagline for Dipping Dots is “the Ice Cream of the Future.” It’s been this way since I was a boy. I would have thought the future would have got here by now.

I felt nothing, so I tried to build some momentum with another one. The Fair this year featured an incredibly tall sculpture of the American Gothic.   A couple of days before, Sharon Bell had informed me that it was not the farmer’s wife that was sternly standing behind him, but his daughter. Reflecting on it during our walk, I had a series of epiphanies.

First, I realized what her father’s pitchfork was for: guys like me.  By the look of things, he’d been successful.

Second, I gathered that in her suitcase at her feet lay tucked away a little black dress and a cute pair of sandals, a partial can of hair spray, and a tube of lipstick she hoped was holding up well in the heat. She knew he wouldn’t be able to stay up all night, and we he finally tired out, around 8:30, she was going to let her hair down and saunter around a bit.

Her head was wistfully turned towards one of the many establishments that serve beer. The scowl on her face tells me she had seen the $8 price tag, and the sculptor caught her vainly wishing that she would have tucked more away from the old miser.  She’s been isolated to such a degree, the thought never occurred to her that a boy might buy her one.

In the end, this also was to no avail. The closer we got, the more nervous I became.

I mentioned to Andrew, in an understated, conversational way, “I’m a little nervous.” This didn’t help either, but Andrew did his best.

“The way this works is that we will go in at the start of a commercial break. Van and Bonnie will make small talk with you, putting you at ease and giving them a chance to figure out what they are going to ask you. When we go on the air, they’ll pitch you some easy, ‘softball’ type questions, and it will be over before you know it.”

We were at the Depot, and I knew their kegs were still tapped. I thought about seeing if Wheeler wanted a cold one. Unlike the miser’s daughter, I was partially motivated to pay the $8. I also thought better of it. It might make me liable to swear.

Arriving at the studio, we stepped in the side door and were greeted by a man standing behind a counter. Andrew struck up a conversation with him as easily as he had with me. A second man stood silently by and listened. At some point he joined in, and I recognized the voice of Jan Mickelson, waiting his turn to take his show on the air. I thought of asking him if he wanted to go on a littler earlier than normal.

Through a clear door sat Van and Bonnie and their current guest. In no time flat, a commercial came on, the guest rose, the door opened, and someone mentioned for Andrew and myself to go in. I decided not to look nervous. Part of me thought looking nervous would be liable to make them swear.

Van and Bonnie could make conversation as easily as Wheeler, whom might have his own radio show someday. We talked about the weather, the fair, the people of the fair gazing right in the large picture windows across from us, and somehow we wound up talking about grocery shopping at Hy-Vee. By that time only the three of them were involved in the conversation. I was still stuck on the unnerving presence of the faces outside the window.

My internal clock had been ticking during the commercial break, and it told me my moment was quickly approaching. Sure enough, and without warning, Van launched into the weather or traffic or something. I looked over to Bonnie, and I found her looking squarely at me. She had found me out. The expression on her face said, “Shit, this one is nervous after all.”

Just then Van cracked a joke of some sort or other and made a slight raise of his index finger.  On cue Bonnie broke into that famous laugh of hers.  I fancied it was laced with a slight trace of profanity.

Van began, “Joining us in the studio this morning is Dan Hanrahan. How’s it going this morning, Dan?”

Dry, I thought.

Before I could think any further, my mouth opened and out came, “Wonderful, Van. And what a beautiful morning it is to be out here at the Iowa State Fairgrounds talking about agriculture. Thanks so much to the two of you for having me on.” And as my own voice pattered on, without hesitation, laying it on thick and heavy as it went, I wondered, who let this crazy bastard in?

A few more questions, a couple of minutes, and it was over. I had survived it without cursing. I wished I could have said the same for Bonnie. The next commercial had arrived, and Bonnie told us to take our pick from two pans of cinnamon rolls. My stomach, strained from the knot it had recently been in, declined. Perhaps if they were fried and on a stick, they might be liable to make me swear.

As we opened the door to leave the studio, another guy hurried in before I got it closed. There was something about him that made one wonder if he was really supposed to be in there or not. It was as though I had ran into myself. As it was, he didn’t seem the least bit nervous, and I was sure they would find something to talk about.