Saturday, October 20, 2012

Renn Fest Fun? Not so much.

I dunno.  Maybe I'm getting too old or too cynical or too something.  What used to excite me and inspire me to get up early on a Saturday morning or stay out late Friday night, no longer holds the appeal.  Here, I will say it.  I HATE festivals, fairs, carnivals, or whatever you call them.  Hate them.

I already avoid the local ones.  The Darlington Apple Fest was a lot of fun when it first started: reasonably priced crafts, free parking, friends to visit with, and lots of good food.  I can't go anymore.  The crowds choke the streets making it impossible to see the booths or comfortably walk the area. I get tired really fast of being elbowed and bumped by people who won't let the words "Excuse me" escape their mouths.  I went once to the Seafood Festival when it was just starting.  I did some volunteering and still have the apron I bought (I wear it to Grace Place since there's no need for an apron in this non-cooking household). I remember sitting with friends and laughing as we ate steamed crabs.  I wouldn't go near the place now because of the crowds and the bus loads of tourists.  The Independence Day Carnival?  Haven't made it down to the park in years.  I do go to the Art Show as I can get through there in about forty minutes.  And so far, Graw Days has been fun.  But Graw Days is new; everything's fun when it's new.

I took my nieces to the Renaissance Festival in Crownsville today.  I hadn't been there in probably twenty years, but that last time was such fun.  My friend and I bought flower wreaths for our hair.  We sang with the musicians, posed with the characters, and bowed to the queen.  The jesters danced around us and kept us smiling the whole day.  I told my girls how much fun it would be,  not to be afraid of the characters who would speak olde English to us, how great the shows would be, and how we'd get to see a real sword swallower.  They must think I'm a liar.

I knew we were in trouble when the turn off to Crownsville was a traffic jam of revelers.  We had to park so far back in the lot that we couldn't even see the castle.  (And we were close compared to the miles away some overflow parkers got stuck.)  The fairies on stilts at the doorway "creeped out" the girls.  The girls were already whining and ticking me off, and we hadn't even got our tickets.

Once inside, the place was wall-to-wall people.  We struggled to get lunch and struggled to sit.  Of course the older niece didn't want anything until I'd already gone through the line and bought the food for the younger girl.  Yep, I got stuck in line again.  We were fifteen minutes into the "fun" and the older one was already pouting and asking how long we had to stay.  We indulged in a little shopping.  I looked for the flower and ribbons headpieces from yonder years, but there were none.  Reba wanted a fascinator though, a black rose.  A thirty-five dollar black rose. Which brings me to my next complaint.  Everybody was out for a buck.  Literally.  Billie wanted to play the games; soon all my dollars were gone and she hadn't won me one free beer.  The museum of horrors?  Just a joke to these kids who have seen Disney World.  We had to pay a buck each to get in.  The woman in period garb had a huge wad of bucks in her hand.  Billie was more interested in all that money than Grendel's arm.  And the elephant ride?  Eight bucks per kid, sixteen bucks per adult.  I actually saw families of four bobbling on the bored pachyderm.  Thirty-six bucks for a one minute ride!  The girls were getting off the elephant before I'd even seen them hop on.  No pictures for me.  Lines! Lines!  Everywhere!  The longest line we saw was the one leading to the ATM.  No surprise there.

We saw lots of people in costume, but no Renn Fest actors to cajole my nieces into the spirit. If there was a royal family parade, the crowds blocked us from seeing it.  The jousting?  Sigh, it was over by the time we waded through the crowd to get there. And speaking of costumes, can somebody explain to me what the costume is where the young men have about six trash bags neatly folded and hanging from the back of their pants?  And what does a panda with an umbrella have to do with the Renaissance period?  My girls wouldn't go near him (it creeped them out).  Got me to wondering who was completely hidden inside that costume, a perv?  Yes, it creeped me out too.  And don't get me started on the almost naked sagging bosoms too many women were flaunting.  Honey, if you've got a couple as big as eggplants, a thin cotton flounce on top of your corset isn't sexy. Maybe, as Honey Boo Boo says, it's smexy, but most of the looks you're getting are looks of wonder, as in I wonder when they're going to fall out and hit the ground.

After three hours of how much longer are we going to be here, we headed back to the exit.  Had delicious apple dumplings with ice cream before we left.  And we had no trouble finding the car, unlike the Renn Fest bride and groom who were disgustedly tromping up and down the aisles looking for their pick up truck.  The girls were thrilled to curl up in the back seat with their I-pods, pillows, and bag of junk food.

I dunno. Maybe I'm too old, maybe things have gotten too commercial, or maybe, just maybe, these things aren't the fun the advertisers make them out to be. No more festivals for me!

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