Adventure in the high fields

I hung my head in shame as the knights led me through the center of the village, past the storyteller entertaining the children, and to the stocks, where I was forced to stand in full view of the public. The rusty iron shackles on my wrists were too large; I began slipping through them once I was just a few feet from the archery booth where I had been arrested. "Are you bored?" the knights had asked. How absurd! I was at a Renaissance fair; how could I be bored? I denied it, and even resisted arrest. Alas, to no avail. To the stocks I went, and I was freed only after the worst imaginable form of public humiliation -- singing. Yes, I was forced to sing, "I'm a Little Teapot" for my freedom. Sadly, I forgot some of the words. My friends, through their laughter, had to tell me what they were. My own laughter (and I was laughing the entire time, even as one of the knights squirted a little bit of water on my imprisoned head) kept me from giving a good performance as well, and I had to sing the end twice -- with actions. I was finally told I could go, and with a measure of pride, I wriggled my wrists out of the shackles and rejoined my friends.

I had a hard time thinking of anything that could be more embarassing than that, so for the rest of the faire, I just let go. I had an absolute blast! I couldn't have asked for a better visit or better company. Before my arrest, we saw a girl walk on swords and a man eat fire. We heard an old monk tell a lovely story called, "The Clown of God." Some of us shot arrows; others threw axes. It was grand. But for me, the best parts of the faire came after the arrest. There was a joust between Spanish and English knights. I, of course, cheered for the Englishman with much gusto. There's nothing more satisfying than being able to shout, "Huzzah!" and pump your fist into the air without feeling foolish. The English won that round, of course. A little bit later, there was a falconry demonstration, and it was was so cool! The birds were exquisite, and seemed so powerful. One flew about six inches from my head at one point. Later, it got even closer. The trainers had volunteers from the audience come out into the arena and form what they called the brush pile. I was the first to go in. We formed a line, and more volunteers came into the arena to show off how well-conditioned (not trained, the handlers made sure we understood) the Harris hawk was. The hawk landed on several people's gloved arms. I'm proud to say that mine is one of them. I was surprised at how light it was; I could barely notice that it landed.

Those were the highlights, I think, but the rest of the fair was lovely as well. I left with a beautiful cobalt blue soda bottle, a frozen bubble (an irridescent marble caught by a magician), and a hand-whittled wooden flower. Of course, there are the memories, too: pirates lying in ambush, someone asking if I were for sale as I was being dragged off to the stocks, enjoying the company of friends (both old and relatively new), peppermint tea and chocolate with the Lawsons ... there were even more after the faire, but I think I'll stop there. It was a wonderful way to spend a Saturday, especially since it was a friend's last weekend before he goes off to college. I hoped he (they, actually) enjoyed it as much as I did.

I'll try to post pictures a little later. If you're considering going, go! Just be forewarned that some of the gypsies were skimpily (Did I spell that right?) dressed.