Hip Hip....HUZZAH!

Currently in Earphones: "Sahara" soundtrack by Clint Mansell. "The Dragon's Breath" by David Arkenstone.

Wow, so that's what a renaissance fair is like.

Roll call of who all was there: From the Casa de Espada de Davis (our house), Myself, Preston (with his current interest, Kyong Hwa), and Robert (with his girlfriend Lisa). And group no. 2, dear Anja and her friends Lisa and Michelle.

I have been to the Dickens fair before. But that, at worst, was a bunch of pretentious, annoying idiots who liked flouncing about in Victorian costume and sawing away at unconvincing accents.

Okay, so the reason for this negative turn was a particularly annoying event early on during the Ren Fair today, but other than that, the day was cool.

Now, I knew that there are usually a few loonies who take everything to the extreme and make some weird crap go down, usually involving an unsuspecting civilian-dressed person who's just there to soak it in. I've had similar encounters before, so I was ready for some strange shit. But this one just rattled me...

Sascha and I were play-fencing with empty hands, just having a glorified poking war. Now, this dude, who was over-acting to begin with (but who had some suavitude to him) sidles up to us and makes a big show of "Don't stab women, embrace women!" (with the usual flowery elocution) in demonstration to me and with the various ladies in our party. Who should he grab but Anja?

So I'm not getting angry or anything: I've got some stability because I was expecting this, but I'm off balance all the same because he's not letting me get a word in edgewise. He's leading me on to calling him out ("Here, you hold her, like this, etc...[to Anja] You see his face? I see jealousy there!") and there is no malice or otherwise, he's doing it all in play. But once again, for the life of me, he wasn't letting me collect my wits to deliver anything diplomatic or (if I was fast and lucky enough) witty.

He was playful enough to keep putting a hand to the side of my face in demonstration ("You hold women!"), with which I kept gently grabbing and pushing aside. Between these vocal salvos and otherwise, I was struggling to find words of my own to rebuff the cur. Now, it looked as though he was a nice enough guy, so I wasn't interested in chewing him out, but I eventually gave up and played into the short way out. I let all expression fall from my face, took a good grip on his hand, and said softly "Unhand my woman!" Not the words I would have used had I the choice, for he was baiting me towards such a cro-magnon-like response.

But it did the trick, and he bowed in apology before I could stammer out "or I shall have to challenge you to a duel!" I would have duelled him in all earnestness, yet still in play, as I had no interest in actual blood sport. As we left we were all laughing about it naturally, but I still felt I had some matter of honor to settle, some reason left unexplained. That, unfortunately, was what stuck with me, that un-balanced-ness.

Not to say that there were other good things that I forgot. There was an uproariously funny troupe called The Sound and the Fury who did their own play, "Testiculese and ye Sack of Rome," the self-advertised "dirtiest play of the faire." It was basically a long string of sex jokes, but well put together and well executed. To mention some off-color material, they used a joke with word-play on "vas deferens" in the punchline, which elicited a good giggle from myself and the rest, to which the performers replied: "Ahh, a College-age group!"

Saw the Jousting tournament, which had all the theatricality (and better jokes) as any of those "Camelot"-dinner-and-a-floor-show actors-whacking-each-other-with-swords performances, but had real, honest-to-goodness, no-holds-barred jousting. Real whacks and everything. Nothing too spectacular, but you could tell when a hit landed: "CRAASH!!"

We picked up some great, hearty food. Preston with a full leg of turkey, and the rest with some beautifully rich soup in a bread bowl. We watched some Morris Dancers and Scots/Irish dancers while chonkin' on the grub, and it was then that we actually met back up with Anja and co.

What had happened: The house crew (viz, Preston, I, et. al.) got separated from the Anja crew as we were looking through all the booths, and we decided to head over to the Jousting match and hope to meet up with them on the off-chance that they were going there too. After the match, we went back to the food area and ate, during which we found each other again.

After that we wandered about some more, and eventually caught the middle of "The Bold and Stupid Men," a well done act about how to be overtly and comically chivalrous. There was some fun theatrical swordplay, but it was also clear that the fellows were no slouches with blades. As Preston remarked later: "There were some well done technical disengages and takes, and even one of the more theatrical 'circular-disarm' moves, though with quite a bit of skill in it." Normally I'm not up for any kind of audience participation, but in a play like this (and with the already theatrical quality of most of the audience) it was a joy to watch the two men instruct people in how to POSE...like a man, STRUT...like a man, and BOW to a lady...like a man!

We goofed about in the various clothing booths for a little afterward, and my only regret was not trying on some of the loose-sleeved, renaissance men's shirts that merited their own booth. The various cloaks were cool enough, but I think I'll be able to get stuff like that at the upcoming Costume Sale in the UCD Drama dept.

Poor, dear Anja. She came down with a migraine part way through the day. I went into my customary "low-alert" mode: ears pricked and eyes open in order to help ease any aggravating stimuli that might make things worse. This, of course, pretty much only entailed me with keeping the sun out of her face and being as gentle as possible. Having a mom who gets migrains has, I hope, tuned me in at least a little to that kind of stuff.

Turns out that her group didn't click very well with the rest of us. Anja was put in the awkward position of trying to at least reconcile her two charges, a feat which I heard later didn't turn out very well. In any case, she's feeling pretty crummy today, so after I do my few chores and homework I hope to be able to ease her.

To end on a nice note, she came back to our house (along with our other guests, though not the other two in Anja's crew) and we all cooked dinner. I won't go into too much detail of the short time we had with each other afterward, but it was so nice to be standing in each others arms, and feeling this sort of magic rise out each other by being on the same brainwave: listening to the above mentioned Celtic song and looking into each others eyes.

Reader, I worried earlier when getting to know Anja. I worried that I might not come to love her. I cared and still care for her very much, yet as I have discovered, there seems to be a fine line between loving and caring for someone. Maybe I'm still settling the differences between Passionate love and Companionate Love, as so nicely outlined by our Psych. Profs. But I tell you, Reader, whatever stoicism that has stilled my heart in the past is gradually dissolving. For once, I have hope.

But enough of my prattling. I'm sure you're anxious to be getting back to your life after such a lengthily post.

Enough, More Later.
- James