So what is the big deal about Dayton? Is it the Nirvana of Ham Radio?
Paradise Lost?
What one sees, for the most part, is a scurvy collection of goofily clad old
men trailing homemade carts or modified grocery carts behind them as they
drag "for sale" junk behind them.
Forget getting close to the new vendors booths. The Old Farts gather around
the new vendors booths and dawdle for hours on end. No, they won't spend a
penny, but they love to stand in front of the new vendors booths and share
their flatulence with those standing behind them. The only way to get close
to the new vendor booths is to hope that one of the Old Men wets his Relys
and has to head to the bathroom.

Then there is always the Double Dip who comes to the fest with six
handie-talkies on his aleady overburdended 1960's white belt. You have seen
them. Six HT's, three on each side with mics dangling from every angle. It
makes you wonder how the Goons keep their pants up.
And what Dayton Hamfest would not be complete without at least one Goofball
running around the arena with a small beam antenna mounted on his hat? You
have seen the likes. Beam me up, Scotty.


Oh, and let us not ignore the ever present Junk Vendors in the outside
arena. Anybody want to buy a burned out Marine battery? Some ten year old AA
batteries still in the orginal 1995 package?

Dayton is far from the Ham Radio Mecca it once used to be. It has turned
into a Flea Market.

I went to Dayton once. After arriving at 0700 and not being allowed into
the main arena until 11:00 I quickly wrote Dayton off, never to return.

It is not worth the trip.