You can still see the Fair’s lost arch — and you should
I found the hole in the fence and belly-crawled under, but my sweater snagged on the fence and I had to back up to free myself and then crawl forward again. I slid down into a dry ravine, or gulch. There were immense chunks of broken concrete, rotted timbers as thick as railroad ties, rocks and dead branches. The wind was blowing hard enough to make old limbs creak and grown. Startled rabbits darted from the fallen leaves. There was an outline of an impromptu camp on the floor of the ravine.
I kept plodding east, wondering if I had been put on, when I saw the outline in the trees. I climbed out of the gully, grabbing trees for purchase, and got closer and saw the structure, almost the glinting silver and shape of the fuselage of a lost plane, a familiar thing now going to seed like in those doomsday documentaries about life on Earth after the people have left. How long before the Statue of Liberty tumbles into the ocean, the Wrigley Field sign finally collapses, the Minnesota State Fair streetcar arch settles to earth?