Only when I’m with Bennett.  I swear these things only happen when Bennett and I are together.  First, we stumbled on a John Philip Sousa concert in small town America.  That’s when he decided things happen around me (see Adventures Happen).  He also decided he wanted to stick close.  To experience more, I guess.

Now it’s the State Fair.  Our State Fair is the best state fair in our state.

No, this is not Bennett and me. He’s not quite this good looking. This is Ann Margaret and Pat Boone in the 1962 movie, State Fair.

We’re leaving.  We’ve spent eight pleasant, but uneventful, hours poking around chicken roosts, pig pens, pie contests, western-style riding displays (where, mind you, he showed inordinate interest in the young women in their glittery western shirts, tight pants and cowboy boots), and the midway.  We’re close to the exit.  Only a five-minute stroll to the exit.

When it happens.  He appears.  He being a nine-foot-tall robot transformer.  Strolling calmly down the middle of the street, heading in our direction.  Followed by an entourage of fair goers.

He stops.  Maybe ten feet from us.  He starts singing. The crowd fans out in a circle around him, leaving him at the center of a bare, concrete-covered space.

He takes a step closer to Bennett and me.  He head turns toward me.  Then I think, “No.  What an ego you have, Georgia.  He’s not looking at you.”

A young couple break away from the on-lookers, into that empty space.  They start to dance.

The transformer turns to face them.  He stops singing.  He stands, just stands, quietly.

The young man says, “Sorry”.  The couple jumps out of the circle and back into the crowd.

The transformer moves a step.  Two steps.  Right toward me.

He turns his head.  Right toward me.

Make no mistake, folks, I am clearly in his sights.

He’s five feet from me now.  I stand my ground.  His eyes start flashing red.  He starts to sing again.  It’s a sultry, sensual Latin beat, something about, “Stay with me, sway with me….”

He moves a step closer.  It’s just the two of us.  “When you sway I go weak,” he sings.  His hips start to swivel.

“How is this happening?” I ask myself.  “Is there someone actually inside there?  Must be.”

He moves closer.  He’s now twelve inches from me.

Get out your ruler.  Look at twelve inches.  Figure a nine-foot-tall metal robot transformer with red flashing eyes, bending down toward you that close, swiveling his hips and singing, “When the music starts to play…..”

I stand my ground.  This is a clear, massive invasion of my Nordic sense of personal space.  But I stand my ground.  I think, “Hey, this is a cha cha cha.  I can do this.”

So I start to dance with my nine-foot-tall partner.  One, two, cha cha cha.  One, two, cha cha cha.  I throw in the side step, the chase, my whole limited repertoire with this dance.

The music ends.  His eyes stop flashing red.  His hips stop gyrating.  The robot goes into hibernation.  He turns away from me, continues walking down the street, followed by his entourage.

Bennett takes my hand and says, “What did I say, Georgia.  Things happen around you.”