PART TWO: The Renaissance Festival

Deep fried medieval turkey legs…

Succulent poultry of an extremely oversized American bird, cooked in a vat of hot oil and flavored with what seemed to be some secret, perfected, passed down through the ages recipe from a town peasant who lived hundreds of years ago – that, is what I tasted. It was six dollars for one scrumptious leg, so my friend and I split the cost. No. Actually I think I made a contribution of two dollars just to have a few bites. I soon after wished I had purchased a whole one for myself.

My first pull of the leg involved a mass peeling of oil dripping, crispy skin that took way too long to chew. I managed to peel off the juicy meat from the skin, and savored it like a delicacy. The meat was so tender and full of flavor, it practically melted over my tongue and slipped down my throat. Had I been eating from a silver plate garnished with vegetables and fruit from a royal garden, I could’ve easily convinced myself that I was a queen dining in my castle. I was two seconds away from ordering that hot dude dressed like a court jester over there to juggle some apples for me. I had other ideas of what to order him to do for me, too... All thoughts grew both creative and dirty, and then I had to order myself to stop pretending to be a queen because clearly I would make a very bad one...

My two dollars well spent, I was cured from my stupid little experience with my beer purchase. Moving on, we found our way to a little magic show being held in the middle of the grounds. We stopped to watch, but it wasn’t much to see. Joker number one was lying on a bed of nails while Joker number two smashed a plate on number one’s chest with a ball. Maybe it’s just me, but I was under the impression that everyone and their mother knew the secret to the bed of nails trick, and that it’s just not as impressive as it probably was a hundred years ago. Do you know the secret to the trick? Maybe I shouldn’t ruin it for you…

Moving on, we found a large crowd sitting in rows of benches waiting for a show to begin. This seemed interesting, so we found some seats. The man introducing the show was going on about the not-interesting-at-all topic of drinking beer… The audience was actually responding. People laughed. He talked about beer, like, “Hey! I have a beer! You have a beer!” And the people would laugh. He would raise his cup and talk about getting wasted, and people would raise their cup and laugh. Don’t get me wrong. I like my beer. Getting wasted is fun. But it’s really not that… comedic, topically. So I figured this was just a time-killer before the actual show started. I looked left, then right, looking for a sign to tell me when the show would start and what it was supposed to be about, but I couldn’t find anything.

Ten minutes in he was asking the audience to bring him their drinks. People were coming up to him with their cups. He was pounding them like a nineteen year old in a dorm room party. He would finish, quite untheatrically might I add...I mean, a little pounding on the chest, or the crushing of a cup with one hand would've been at least SOMETHING that would justify the audience going nuts. But no. He just drank their drink. That was it. And people thought this was good comedy. They were laughing. And cheering. I looked at my friends, twenty minutes in now with no new material, and said, “Has the show even started yet?” Unsurprisingly, they shrugged and looked just as bewildered from our so-called entertainment as I was. What the hell was this? I know I might sound like a total snob, but Reader? You have to believe me when I say that this was the worst entertainment(if that’s what you want to even call it) I’ve ever experienced in my life. I would’ve felt better about the situation if the guy was tanking with the audience, but the truth of it was, the audience was laughing and responding like he was some sort of god.

And this pissed me off.

Get ready for it, Folks. I’m about to rant like usual. And, Reader? If you’re sick of me being pissed off all the time? Too bad. Get used to it. This is my style, my stage, my cynical, dark edge, the mood that actually brings out my better writing.

So. Stupid, fat, ugly guy talking about nothing but beer and having strangers bring him their own cup of germs, and having people actually find this laugh out loud funny, fucking pissed me off. It did. And hey. I'll even tell you WHY. I had thought to myself: if this was some stupid, fat, ugly woman trying to pull off these “jokes”, she’d totally be tanking. My point? People expect comedy from men, even when the comedy is horrible, and especially when the guy is fat and ugly and unclean and stupid. If a man is attempting to be funny (and I stress, attempting), people laugh because they think they should. Comedy is often revered as a masculine trait, and as an extremely funny woman as myself (she says so humbly…), I resent this. I also resent it because all of my WOMEN friends are equally hilarious, some of them more so. Put us on stage. We’ll give you a show… And no. No poles. We'll do it without poles, if you can possibly fathom it.

I don’t think privileged white men have any idea how privileged and white they really are. Even when you’re unclean, uncouth, ugly and fat, people adore you. Ha! You don’t even have to be talented to make up for it! You’re a walking cartoon character and because nobody has oppressed you with stereotypes or prejudices or racism, you can do whatever you want.

Maybe that’s not all fair…
I’m certain I just pissed off a bunch of people…
Allow me a slight redemption by continuing with THIS:

I understand that fat men undergo a certain amount of oppression from their peers just like fat women. And being a cartoon character can't be all that flattering deep down...

However…

Women don’t tend to leave their husbands when they get fat, but when vice versa it's a different story. When you hear the words “carbs” and “diet” and “nutri-system”, do you picture a fat man at the gym? or a skinny, large breasted woman in a bathing suit on the cover of a magazine... (Men have to diet too but nobody puts them under magazine headlines about weight loss). When you see a fat man on stage do you automatically assume he’s going to be hilarious? When a woman steps out on stage, do you expect her to tank? Fat men are expected to be funny. Fat women are expected to hit the gym. Fat men can get drunk, be crass and loud, shake their disgusting, shirtless gut, and everyone thinks he’s a hero. Fat women are told to keep hidden.

My ultimate point to this stupid rant? Allow me to reiterate: I don’t think privileged white men, even the fat ones, have any idea how privileged and white they really are. The audience I sat with has clearly proven thus.

Enough about that, though. I could talk about fat people, comedy, and sexism forever. But I'm tired now, and don't care anymore. But I will later, so stay tuned for a random chapter solely devoted to this clearly not-fully-developed-yet rant topic.

So. Back to my story:

We got up and left because I wasn’t the only one that was thinking, “THIS SUCKS.” We found another show. This one, was… whoa. Opposite comedy. It was an elderly gentleman making great attempts at intellectual, obscure puns about the renaissance era that nobody would understand unless they were reincarnated from King Arthur's court. My heart went out to this guy… He had clearly put effort into his bit. You know, actually wrote up his jokes and practiced in a mirror. But he didn’t have a microphone, so it was extremely difficult to hear him. His jokes needed that quiet, mellow voice of his, but the poor guy needed a microphone, BADLY. Feeling sad for him, we moved on…

We found a wand and broomstick shop, which was more exciting for us than it should’ve been considering that we’re all grown ups, but because we’re a group of diehard Harry Potter fans this was an extra special treat. Well. It was for me, at least.

What’s that, Reader? You were mumbling, I couldn’t hear you…
I’m a “hippo-nautical tork?” That sounds very scientifically geeky… Say it again for me, will you?

Oh. You said, “hypocritical dork”. Hypocritical? Maybe. Turns out I’m just as weirdly obsessed with the sub-culture of the Potter craze as people are about the renaissance era. But, dork? No. Come on. There’s no shame in being a fan of classic literature. Maybe you should pick up a book. I recommend Harry Potter.

Anyway. The wand shop was super dope. The brooms were beautifully crafted, and even if you’re not a fan of famous wizards like Harry, you can’t help appreciate the craftsmanship and the beauty of a flying broomstick. Yes, they fly. If you raid Peter Pan’s cupboard, they do. However, you have to believe in fairies to do that… Which? I’m pretty sure most of the people that were at the fair, DO.

After coming really close to actually buying a really pretty green wand, we moved on.

As the fair panned out around the bend, there were all sorts of interesting, man-powered rides, like giant rocking Viking boat swings that the kiddies could enjoy. They also had a lot of real life animal rides, something I have been morally against since I was a small child. This, Reader, is where I’m about to talk about animal rights, how I violated my own ethic code, and how I’m not sure I can ever forgive myself for doing so.