Now, I do not mean to hate, judge, mock, or expose. I only mean to investigate and report. Journalistically. That’s right. Pencil skirt, awkwardly plunging neckline. Glasses that slip down my nose. Bic pen in hair. Stuff like that.
So, the Renaissance Fair. I know it. You know it. Personally, in my youth, trips were taken with the high school drama club (for which I was ‘historian’) to one of these – um – special – events. I did experience the Rennaissance fair, yes sir. And by ‘experience’ it, I do mean bad renditions of Shakespeare (which is probably the root of why I don’t like the guy. Shh. Secret, a lot.) Trips also included an old favorite, meat-on-a – stick, and I also recall elephant rides, fake swords and the like.
Now -apparently – I missed out. Some high schools boast clubs and societies specifically devoted to the Rennaissance fair. Groups of students pair with teachers (mentors) to explore the joys and tribulations of medieval life.
In said clubs, each student posesses a ‘Mundane Name’ and ‘Persona Name.’ For example, my Mundane name would be Bekah Brunstetter; my Persona name would be ‘Princess Pretty Buttercup Esquire’ or ‘Lady Esther Regina St. Claire.’
I like the idea of this. I hope that in the future, our great great great grandchildren ride around on robot flowers attending fairs where they don’t cosume carbs and play video games. I think paying homage to the past is a good idea. The older I get, the more awesome things that once seemed weird become.
What I’m trying to say is: jousting, I salute you. Pickle selling, woods crafting: Do it. Why the heck not? Boys who at some point in their lives donned tights and chased maidens? Awesome.