Last weekend was blustery and rainy. I watched to Patriot's game happy that I was at home, cozy and warm, and not one of the folks there freezing in the snow. I was also happy that J and I picked LAST weekend to go to the King Richard's Faire.
Ah, renaissance faires! I remember going to the renaissance faire when I was younger; we'd have such a good time! We'd run around, looking at all the freaky people, going to see wacky shows, and eating fried dough while drinking pink champagne in princess goblets. I especially loved the fights at the mudpit, Smee and Blog, the singing executioners, and sitting in a sunny patch on a hill, happily buzzed, while cheering at the joust. (we always sat on the evil guy's side) We hadn't gone to the renaissance faire in several years, so we were looking forward to bringing J's little son and 15 year old nephew.
I came to a conclusion that weekend. I am so done with renaissance faires!
Maybe it was because we had a 3 year old and had to skip the more violent shows, like the mud fight and the joust. Maybe it was because we had a 15 year old and the double entendres and innuendos were more embarrassing than funny. Maybe it was because they no longer have friend dough or princess goblets. Maybe it's just that I'm too old.
The King Richard's Faire seemed more like a giant hassle this year than anything else. The 3 year old was alternately bewildered and scared. The 15 year old was texting incessantly. Yeah, we did get a few laughs at the kid-friendly shows we went to. Yeah, the candle guy was there. (always my favorite booth at the faire) And yeah, I got a really cute dragon shaped candle in a martini glass. But overall, it seemed like a distant second to an afternoon at home with a good book.
The clincher came when I had to use the facilities. I left my posse at the stage watching the drumming pirates and eating giant, salty turkey legs. I weaved my way in and out of rides and shows and booths. I finally located the port-o-potty village and walked towards it.
"Good morrow, my fair maiden! Where doth though venture on this fine day?"
I looked up, expecting to see some fair worker entertaining the crowds. Nope. Just some guy who had come to the fair with his buddies. He was all dressed up: peasant shirt, sword, fancy hat with a feather, a cape, and --I don't know what you'd call his pants -- leggings? Knickers? Breeches? Pantaloons? Whatever.
I tried to be festive, I really did. I mean, I KNOW it's a renaissance faire. I know people get dressed up and play characters. I know he was just trying to have fun. But darn it, from the hopeful and expectant look on his face, it became abundantly clear: ol' pantaloons had given me a medieval pick up line! I just couldn't play along.
It was all I could do to keep myself from grabbing him by his woolen cape and shaking him. "Really? Dude? You're like 38 years old! Maybe you should spend a little less time playing Everquest and, I dunno, go to a bar or something!"
As it was, I just said: "To Camelot" (the name of the port-o-potty village) and was on my way.
After the 3 year old had a complete melt down and we dragged our weary selves to the parking lot, I voiced my glum opinion of the Faire to my buddies. They agreed.
Then, on the way home, I had a thought. Maybe we WOULD return to the King Richard's Faire next year. Maybe we'd even dress up!
I think it may be fun to go in Star Trek outfits and spend the day wandering around and looking at one another nervously: "I think we're at the wrong fair!"