I Went to Trump’s Great American State Fair So You Don’t Have To

The opening weekend of the Great American State Fair in Washington, D.C., was, to put it simply, miserable. It was extremely muggy, with rain pouring down seemingly every hour. A child rolled around in the grass, crying and screaming, “I. WANT. TO. GO. HOME!!!” Creed’s “Higher” blared over the loudspeakers, and a sparse crowd milled about the various exhibitions. The bare-bones setup—flimsy, fake two-dimensional columns that looked like something Wile E. Coyote would run into while chasing the Road Runner—left much to be desired, as America’s 250th anniversary was celebrated with kitsch and ennui rather than grandeur and appreciation. 

More than anything, the event lacked energy—and people. There wasn’t any line or wait to get in. The vibe was more conference-like than celebratory, and the state exhibits varied wildly in effort and presentation. Utah and Guam had particularly involved setups, while others like South Carolina felt totally sterile. Connecticut and Maine shared a space that looked like the waiting room of a pediatrician’s office, while Hawaii and Alaska didn’t have anyone attending to visitors. There were $25 pretzels, an AI George Washington, an interactive “Loyalist or Patriot?” test, and a whiteboard wall full of messages from attendees, one of which read “a felon and predator resides at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave!!”

“It feels more like a campaign event than a fair,” said M., a D.C resident who didn’t want to be named and was visiting with his wife and son. “There was potential here. I think that the state exhibits they had, some of them were very well done, others didn’t really have much effort put into them.… My four-year-old enjoyed the carousel, but I think that if this was done a little bit more thoughtfully it could’ve been really fun. I’ve been going to state fairs for most of my life, I’m from Minnesota. And so seeing what a really thought-out, well-done state fair looks like—it’s an incredible experience.”   

“Kind of disappointing they don’t have anywhere to sit, especially if you get food—you’re just standing,” said Virginia resident Anita, as we were being ushered out of the “rain-or-shine” event Sunday afternoon due to the weather. “Right now, we’re being postponed because of lightning. Where are we all supposed to go? We drove two hours, we’re not just gonna go jump in the car. It’s kinda sad there’s not a backup plan.”  

“I think if [Trump] wanted to make a bigger splash, he should’ve gotten Disney, or somebody who knows how to do this,” said Haven, another D.C. resident attending the fair. 

While many states and artists opted out of the event, corporations did not. The presence of companies like Northrop Grumman, United Health Group, Chime, and others was very apparent.

“I understand that people are advertising here, that there’s sponsors,” said a visitor named Ryan. “Coming in and seeing SpaceX, or like Micron was kind of like, ‘Oh, I wasn’t expecting that.’ But it’s America, so maybe I should’ve.” 

When asked about defining American moments of their lifetimes, attendees’ answers were about as bleak as the scene, as almost all the answers included 9/11, Covid-19, and pretty much every war the U.S has been in. “The Revolutionary War, World War II, the Vietnam War, the Iraq War,” said Haven. “It’s a shame you think of war first.” 

Of course, not everyone was underwhelmed by the fair.

“I know how much [President Trump] loves the country, so I’m not the least bit surprised that they’re going all out,” said Nicki Hannigan, in her seventies, who came all the way from Grand Rapids, Michigan, with her husband, Jack.

“There’s not a weed in this grass!” Jack said. “I don’t know if anybody’s noticed that, but that takes some doing. If the administration can do that well, they can do a lotta stuff well.” 

“Well” is relative, as the event has been shrouded in tumult as Trump took over. What was originally supposed to be a weeks-long blockbuster festival to celebrate the nation turned into a politically charged event, where even B- and C-list artists like Flo Rida, Milli Vanilli, Vanilla Ice, and the Commodores dropped out. Soon, nearly a dozen states did too, as it became more and more obvious that Trump was using this event for partisan purposes. As everyone bailed, Trump petulantly declared the fair would instead be kicked off with a rally that he would headline—but even that didn’t get much of a turnout. That timeline of chaos still felt prescient, as the haphazard, thrown-together nature of the event stood out more than anything. And that distracted from what people were actually there for: to celebrate the anniversary of their country.

Some attendees were able to acknowledge Trump’s heavy-handed involvement in the 250th while trying to remain appreciative of what the event represented. 

“I don’t really take [Trump] into consideration. He’s gonna be gone in three years, dead in ten,” said Scott. “He’s not gonna take away my joy of this event. He’s the president, but he’s not God—even though he thinks he is. I wasn’t gonna come to this, but then I thought, ‘Ya know, I’m not gonna let him take it away.’” 

I wish I shared that optimism.