Why does everyone think I’m joking when I mention my yearly jaunt to the home of the dry ass Turkey Leg, swingers disguised as medieval folk and BOOBS, BOOBS, BOOBS!
I don’t dress up. I don’t speak in Old English.
I eat good British food and make fun of everyone.
And there is so much ammo….
I asked (dragged) Chesty Morgan and Clyde along with me so they could experience what a lifetime of devotion to Dungeons and Dragons creates.
Beforehand, I spent the morning playing tennis with Chesty.
I hadn’t played since I was a teenager and I was, to put it mildly, not bad…
…if I were Elizabeth Taylor and you just tossed me out of my wheelchair, thrust a racket in my withered hand and withheld my morning cocktail before the playing began.
When we arrived at the faire, we stood in line for our tickets and had to witness the most obnoxious Renaissance Family.
There was an unusually tall teenage girl wearing a ‘Knights of the Roundtable’ getup, incessantly clacking two shells, which made the sound of a horse running.
Unfortunately, this horse did not trample the girl.
The entire family was dressed up but we all fixated on the most likely friendless maiden.
When she broke out in medieval song, we couldn’t believe our ears. She knew every word! As much as we felt pity for her boyfriendless future, we were probably wrong in our assessment.
I’m sure she was to encounter many a fellow freak through the gates of this shire.
As we were parched from our travels and required food and drynk, we headed to get our sausage rolls, bacon wrapped asparagus and raspberry ciders.
A large woman with a larger bodice asked for my ID and after viewing my chubby picture said “Wow, I can see why you didn’t want to show me this!”
I was too in shock to be offended.
“If it makes you feel any better, you look great now.”
I can’t believe I still left her a tip.
We downed our ciders, got a little tipsy, used the privies and raced through the hoards of costumed weirdos to the booth that sold MEAT PIES!!
Standing near what I believe to be the world’s perfect food, we discussed the difference between Shephard’s Pies, Cottage Pie’s and Scottish Pies. We got some of each.
We ate them in seconds, got our second round of ciders, than ran out of money.
We watched the belly dancers for a bit.
Paid two shillings to walk through a ghetto maze
Took pictures in shackles.
Then we ate some more.
The Renaissance Faire attracts a variety of individuals. Unfortunately, this doesn’t include anyone of ethnic background.
I’ll never forget my first year, I was standing in line and some guy in front of me turned around and said:
“There sure are a lot of Black People here”
Only he didn’t say ‘Black People’.
Once again, I was too in shock to respond.
Plus, he was wrong, I only saw a few.
Eventually, I got the hint that my guests wanted to get the hell out of there.
But we didn’t do so without gorging ourselves on chili cheese fries and a cream puff. Naturally. Much like what Queen Elizabeth would request after a night of too much ale.