22 October 2013

Ye olde festival de renaissance

It is a truth universally acknowledged that, at least once a year, one should attend an event wherein the people who didn't get dates in high school throw off all the shackles of inhibition, dress up and cart their children around for a day of frivolity.

For me, this event is known as the renaissance festival. And an event of great joy it is, too.

People play musical instruments that went out of fashion 200 years ago whilst dressed like characters out of Robin Hood: Men in Tights (great movie, btw) and sporting terrible attempts at using the King's olde English.

Tradesmen who toil year round making inane items oft broken or forgotten in a years time make a smashing livelihood off of schmucks like me who totally want to pay sixty bucks for that beautiful though useless hanging glass thing.

Food, all of the groups, on a stick. And mass produced and not actually too overpriced. (Ren fests beat out comic cons for this reason, I hear.)

You can be yourself at the Ren Fest. Or a horse. You can be a horse too.

You can walk around with others not in costume and marvel and trip over tree stumps because..."did you see that person's outfit?"

You can try your luck at a strongman competition and realize it's more of a strong-and-coordinated man's competition and laugh gracefully at yourself when you inevitably, year after year, fail to ring the bell.

You SHOULD take in the local flavor with selfies whilst listening to bagpipes. Yes, yes, and yes.

You can try your hand at archery and get advice from a six year old whose brother is shooting arrows next to you, in all his hat, feather and green tights glory. And still never manage to hit the white of the target, let alone one of the colors, despite said advice.

You can see silly boys who have been friends since their birth and grew up to be so, so different and yet are still the best of friends. And then you can wonder: why can't girls be more like boys, friendship wise? Yes, gender assumption statement here but still: I have no friends from birth. I had a new best friend every year, it seemed, growing up. I can count one amazing friend who was a bestie before my teen years with whom I coin as a bestie still today (hi Katie!)

But most important of all, I dare say, is that it is a truth universally acknowledged that if a hot turkey leg be available, it must be in want of teeth. Good teeth, ripe for devouring said turkey leg.

And that's what we did this past Sunday. You?

1 comment:

  1. I love going to Renaissance festivals! It's been a few years though, since I haven't gotten tickets and it's a bit of a drive for us. The people-watching is crazy!