To outsiders, it might seem strange that a city with world-class rollercoasters on its main drag gets excited when a carnival comes to town. You’d think that a portable Ferris wheel might be a little ho-hum to people who can go up in the Stratosphere tower any day of the year, and that a petting zoo featuring a goat and a rooster could seem awfully tame compared to the white tigers at the Mirage or the lions at the MGM Grand.

Even so, there’s something mesmerizing about watching an amusement park rise out of the dust on the ordinarily desolate patch of land north of the government buildings between downtown Las Vegas and the freeway. There’s also something irresistibly appealing about a down-home Italian celebration. From the red, white, and green bunting, flags, and banners to the cute old men playing concertinas, this is no Olive Garden or Buca di Beppo. The San Gennaro Feast, now in its 26th year here in Las Vegas, is the real thing.

This year’s site on Grand Central Parkway is a new one for the San Gennaro Feast. Undeniable proof of its popularity is that the festival has outgrown a string of other locations around town. “You’ll know you’re there when you smell the Italian sausage and peppers,” read the directions I printed off the festival’s Web site, and it was true. I was still a block away when the first evidence of Italian cooking reached my nostrils. I parked in an ample lot ($3), and continued to follow my nose to the feast’s entrance.

After I bought my ticket (discount coupons are available on the San Gennaro Feast’s Web site), I began my circuit of the fairgrounds by admiring a statue of San Gennaro that was already festooned with a number of one-dollar bills. San Gennaro — Saint Januarius in English — is the patron saint of Naples. His sacred day is September 19th, the anniversary of his martyrdom in 305 A.D. The money he was attracting was going, in part at least, to the Catholic Charities of Nevada. The fair itself is operated by a for-profit corporation, but its ties to the community are apparent. Students from Bishop Gorman High School were manning the parking lot, and some of the revenue was earmarked for their new school campus.

The festival advertises “over 200 vendors,” and, while there are lots of booths promoting banking, chiropractic, and real estate services or selling candles, bath salts, Italian charms, religious statuettes, temporary tattoos, paintings, ceramics, knickknacks, and jewelry, the majority seemed to be hawking food and beverage. Long sausages coiled like fire hoses were piled next to mountains of onions and peppers at some booths, and a trailer complete with a huge smoker was getting ready to sell brisket sandwiches. People were wandering around with cobs of corn, garlic fries, Philly “cheese steaks,” pizza, cannoli, “fried dough,” and Italian ice. I opted for a segment of coiled sausage, which came on a bun with a pile of fried onions and red peppers for $7. I could have had beer, wine, or lemonade, but since summer hasn’t quite departed from southern Nevada, I chose a cold bottle of water and found a spot at a table with — what else? — a red-and-white checkered tablecloth and a San Pellegrino umbrella.

As families laden with overstuffed trophies from the midway passed by, I watched the entertainment on the stage, a male vocalist crooning “Volare” and other Italian classics. The festival boasts non-stop entertainment that includes not only singers and performers, but also local celebrities like Mayor Oscar Goodman. The local celebrity I saw was Channel 13 weatherman Nate Tannenbaum, who was broadcasting live from in front of a booth selling garlic fries.

Stuffed and entertained, I left with a new appreciation for why Las Vegans of every descent converge on the San Gennaro Feast every year. It’s fun, it’s fleeting, and it’s Italian.