Fried Food, Funnel Cakes, and Diplo: The Big E Experience

The world can be seen in America, and sides of society can be seen in just two places: Disney World and The Big E. But what separates the Festival in Springfield, Mass, from Disney World is that it only operates for 17 days. 

Seventeen days is a pocket in time for New Englanders to scramble to the melting pot with different intentions, whether getting all the carcinogenic food ranging from Fried Oreos, Funnel Cakes, or a massive Turkey Leg. But the Big E's attractions do not stop at food. Festival Goers are drawn to the Big E to maybe purchase a hot tub or find a cream that'll clear up a fungi toenail that will never be put on the market or see a shelf at CVS.  Time spent at the festival is filled with everything America can offer, especially live entertainment. 

Bringing in some of the biggest names in the music industry, from prime 2000s stars like Nelly and Sublime to modern artists like Diplo and even Big Time Rush. For one night only, patrons can see these acts in the Big E Arena for a reasonable ticket price of $60. 

Diplo, the electronic dance music DJ, performed at the Big E this past weekend at 7PM on September 21st. It is unclear if Diplo was the reason for the parking lot on I-91. Most people enjoyed sitting in on the stagnancy Saturday, but no one will ever know. Planning to leave the house at 12PM to arrive in Springfield at 2PM quickly changed for some when the GPS said it would take four hours to arrive at the Big E. Plans had to be rearranged. The grocery list of what the family would eat had to be cut down to three options because of the panic of not having enough time. But don't worry, the Big E doesn't close until eleven, and there is always time. 

Continuing to paint the picture of the last run of the Big E residency, folks came all over the valves of New England and possibly Columbia, Connecticut, to finally arrive at the festival with full bladder and rage. But a parking spot must be found before the feet hit the gravel.

Cruising by friendly neighbors who run pyramid schemes to let visitors park on their grass for a price ranging from $10-$50, the human mind plays a trick to convince the patriarch of the family their loved ones will be turned into a lampshade if the decision is made to park at the Van Winkles residence. 

Traffic lights are out, blinking a helpless dull yellow, and local officers on the verge of retirement direct traffic lifelessly with one Airpod in, playing Van Halen Essentials. Everyone has passed the point of no return, and rookie parents who thought they cracked the system timing out the toddler's nap to sync with the journey to Springfield have now listened to Coco Melon on shuffle for the last 45 minutes. Fresh couples who wanted to enjoy a Saturday together now wish there was an ejection button on both seats. Uncle Unus has continued to Dutch oven everyone in the car and denies it every time as he giggles to himself. 

The shoes hit the ground, and the Wrangler jeans are adjusted. All the family equipment is checked off at roll call. Finally, getting past the security barriers and looking through the photographer who wants to take a portrait, the picture is declined. The typical routine of getting the photo taken and admiring it at the kiosk is no longer cute anymore. Saying, "We should've just gone back home," is shoved in the back of the head and buried with optimism, and a painful, forced Joker smile strikes. Taking a minute to take the environment in, the Big E has reached its capacity, and a few Boomers have flashbacks to Woodstock '99. 

What is the first stop? The State Houses? The goal is to get a double Vodka soda and remove the straw. A deep breath is taken, and the stimulus is working overtime, keeping the chance of a heart attack at bay. The Titos hugs like a blanket and hits harder now with the road soda of exhaustion. Life isn't so bad now. Stopping at the petting zoo doesn't sound terrible, and the guilt of animal cruelty has left the conscience. 

Shuffling through the herds and letting the sound of complaints and tobacco fill the lungs and ears with excitement and envy. The small train with children glides through the crowd with a layer of bacteria and tears. Small stages with unrehearsed acoustics blares around the area, making the sound of instruments being thrown down a flight of stairs. 

But at the heart of the Big E is the central theme of greed running through the pipes and into the pockets of the trustees. There is no end to the amount of tickets sold or the dissociation of workers who aren't getting compensated enough. And the unawareness of the yearly crowd ramming through the Festival gates is left feeling the same way when entering - empty. 

With good food and a vibrant atmosphere, the Big E will continue to deliver 'entertainment, education, and excitement' for generations to come.