Italian Festival: Day Four

It was newbie night at the Italian Festival last night.

Intern Lindsday Key and I (reporter Shruti Mathur) both are not from Wilmington. Lindsay hails from Baton Rouge and is with us for the summer. I just moved to Wilmington in October.
Apparently this Italian Festival is a pretty big deal for folks around here. We were bombared by recommendations and accolades for the festival, as well as some grousing of "I can't believe they are charging."
But for us, the $5 charge was no big deal since it was all new to us anyways. Two ladies guided us towards the pay booth and we thanked them.
"They were nice to us!" said one of the ladies in amazement. "See, people can be nice."
I guess some folks have been giving them a hard time about the charge. Leave the nice admissions ladies alone, folks!

A co-worker recommended we try a Panzarotti. But first, we had to remember what we were supposed to try.
"Panzanetti," I asked Intern Lindsay.
"Maybe?" she replied.
"Panzarooti? Panzanetti? I can't remember!"
"Maybe when we get there we will remember."

So wander we did. We were thankful the weather had cooled to a manageable 85 degrees, as opposed to the steam lockers intrepid reporters Patty, Ryan and Victor had to endure. Still, we fortified our jaunt about the fair with some non-alcoholic strawberry daquiris, made with handfuls of fresh berries.

We made a full loop around the festival in search of this mysterious Panza-whatever, before finally swallowing our pride and asking the Information booth. There Justine Mataleno helped us find our way--right back to about two feet from where we started.


Justine has been a member "since I was born in 1938," she told us. Thanks for the help!

We think we bought the wrong thing at the tent, however, settling on a pizza fritta with its powdered sugar top. Intern Lindsay pronounced it tasted just like a beignet, a Lousiana confection she eloquently describes as "basically fried bread with sugar, but a little but fluffier than that thing." OK, then.

We couldn't possibly finish the thing by ourselves and luckily Mimi Boudart and Don Callender not only let us share half of their shady picnic table, but also helped us eat the sweet dessert.


Being the youngest reporters on our desk, it should be no surprise we decided to be the ones to tackle the midway. Having steelier stomachs than Ryan Cormier, we gamely bought sheets of tickets with our stomachs full...of course, we aren't crazy so we hit up the ferris wheel first.

All rides are one ticket less before 7 p.m. and I highly recommend hitting the Ferris Wheel during that time. With the daylight, you get an eagle eye view of the St. Anthony of Padua Church, the fairgrounds and the surrounding area.




We decided to stick with our low-key theme at least until the powdered sugar settled a bit, so we headed over to "The Monkey House," which was the fun house. And while we had fun, it was disappointing use of two tickets (normally three tickets) with only two stories--the first floor a mirror maze and the second floor with those funny mirrors that twist your body shape, making you look like a chubby midget or a tall giraffe.




With the fried dough safely settled, we decided to go for the big one: The Ring of Fire. A one-track rollercoaster that spins you in the loop, its the kind of ride that behooves you to not think about the fact that a few days ago it was set up on that lawn.
Unfortunately, someone on the ride before us did not heed the "food settling" warnings and let his food settle all over everyone else on the ride...while they were at the top. As the showers of upchuck rained down, Lindsay and I slowly backed away from the ride. Next please!

OK, what else was as daring? How about the ride that whips you around in circles! Yeah, we are totally daredevils. Except that everyone else on the ride was seriously midgets. The two of us crunched into one seat, while the next car over held four little munchkins. But, no matter, we had fun being flung about. Intern Lindsay said she does not like to scream on rides, but this one caused her to "woo-hoo!" just a little. Success.

Two tickets left. Each. And it was after 7 p.m. How could we spend our last precious tickets? The bumper cars said the cost for drivers was 3 tickets and for passengers it was 2. So we begged two drivers to let us be their passengers!

I didn't expect much from a 9-year-old in terms of driving, but Hiraa Walee surprised me. ("I practice in my mom's car," she confessed. Duly noted.) We made it our goal to hit the car that Intern Lindsay was riding in as many times as possible. Unfortunately, a little girl in pink seemed to make our car her primary target too.



With that, we only had five measly dollars left. We ended our first Italian Festival in the opposite manner in which we started: with quiet contemplation. We took the last of four nightly tours of the church and left impressed. Intern Lindsay said it reminder her of her family's church back in Baton Rouge. I admired it for how much it resembled the churches in Italy.

The irony was that, as we were winding down, the crowd was just getting started. Admission price affecting crowds? Nope, it looks like this one can just be chalked up to the heat.