The Story of How I Survived the Renaissance Festival

In all of my (short-ish) years of life, I have never been to the Renaisance Festival - which is kind of a big deal festival-wise in Minnesota. So this year, I vowed to finally get on my horse and ride to the festival.

Well okay, maybe I'm being a bit fanciful, but it's the Renaissance Fair - who wouldn't want to be fanciful?

Planning ahead of time, my two younger sisters (who have both been to the festival before and didn't invite me!) and I plotted our costumes. After all, you can't just go to the Renaissance Festival without dressing up, right? So we donned our costumes (I found a nice gypsy costume [which won several admiring glances and genuine compliments throughout the day], my sister donned a belly dancing costume [which gained her several cat-calls by the vendors as we passed by the food stalls, among others], and my youngest sister dressed as a lady knight [which apparently no one else thought was an eye-catching outfit... shows what they know]) and headed to the festival in our chariot (AKA: car).

We got there pretty early (as in 9:30-10am), and there really weren't that many people milling about at first. But one of the first things we noticed was a peasant fishing in a puddle that had developed in the middle of the dirt road off to our left. If I were writing about this on Twitter or Facebook, that would have been tagged #OnlyAtRenFest.

As for the pickle guys, well what else can I say but that they were hilarious? The food vendors will do pretty much anything to get you to buy from their stalls in the morning, including sing songs about blue (the color of my sister's belly dancing outfit) being their new favorite color and proclaiming quite loudly that gypsies are welcome at their stalls (that would be me!).

And don't forget the wandering entertainers at the festival. My favorite was the guy with the "No Jingle Zone" sign that jumped out in front of us and gave us a hard time since my sister's costume was a bit noisy. As for the stay-in-place entertainment, we saw hypnotists, belly dancers, gypsies (my people! lol), and a "Conversations" booth where a "troll" puppet offered to have a conversation with you.

(Photo credits: http://b.vimeocdn.com/ts/341/889/341889972_640.jpg)

So, being slightly shy by nature, I let my sister (the belly dancer) spin the wheel. It landed on "kisses & hugs." She immediately changed it to "beaver shoes" and after a short argument about the topic with the 'troll,' the conversation began.

I don't remember exactly how the conversation went, unfortunately (it was hilarious because if anyone can out-talk or out-confuse a troll puppet set on confusing anyone, it's my sister), but the conversation eventually turned to why "bail" had been crossed off the troll's change-collecting cup and replaced with "tips."

It turns out that if you are an activist for troll's rights, the king will shut you away in the dungeon. But don't worry, we were talking to a "free troll," because, "you see, 'bail' has been crossed off. It says 'tips!" After that my sister made up an outrageous story about why she had been in the dungeon; the troll gasped at her confession and promptly turned the wheel to "Gossip & Rumors." I wish I remember more of that entirely confusing yet altogether delightful conversation so you could be laughing with me, but I unfortunately must have gotten a little too confused in the process of it.

After that, we wandered around just looking at the things and I think the scariest thing that day happened just after lunch. There was a moving 'statue' that would move if you put coins into his collection bucket. Except the mask this statue was wearing was the creepiest thing I've ever seen!

 (Picture credits: http://farm9.static.flickr.com/8170/7968124950_b5728714b4.jpg)

He was staring at us. So my youngest sister, probably thinking she was hilarious, asked me for some coins. Being the pushover big sister that I am, I gave her the coins. Immediately, my mind started flashing with bright, neon red and white lights. I could see "WARNING" written across my eyeballs. And I think my stomach must have jumped out of its normal place in my body and run around a corner to hide.

As soon as she dropped the coins in the collection bucket, he started moving. Nothing fast or sudden, but for some reason, slow and sinuously hypnotic movement coming from something not completely human-looking that stares at you like you're a tasty meal is definitely more terrifying than fast, abrupt, scream-inducing actions.

First thing the statue did - and which definitely confirmed all of my fears of being eaten (hey, it's a legitimate fear when you have that thing staring at you like a predator!) - was look at my youngest sister (in the lady knight costume) and rub his belly. If the jaw on that thing had been able to move, I swear it would have been smacking it's sharp teeth together repeatedly. I think my morbid fascination with the thing was enough to sear that little detail permanently in my mind - because I swear I remember its mouth almost moving as if to do so.

Then he stared intently at my other sister (the belly dancer) for a while, but finally turned its gaze on me. Where it stayed. My stomach, which I had previously thought a deserter, very definitely was still inside way down in there somewhere because it promptly jumped up into my brain, jumped out of my body, and ran away as if the devil himself were chasing it.

And that's when my heart decided it didn't like where it was and tried to jump up my throat. One look at the statue, though, and it "slunked" back down in place and decided to beat ten times harder than normal. I thought I was going to pass out.

Then the statue moved. It's hand went to the place where I suppose a heart is supposed to stay and patted it, then reached forward as if asking for my hand. The eyes on that thing glittered maliciously, though. I was for sure going to be eaten alive in front of my sisters. What would my parents say?

Maybe I should have told my sisters to go away so they didn't have to watch a carnivorous monster violently eat their older sister, but I was too terrified to talk, let alone move. The only thing that scared me more than taking the thing's hand, though, was that it would follow me if I just walked away. So I held my breath and moved forward a little bit to take its hand.

Logically, I knew there was a person inside that suit, but when you're in the thick of things, logic consigns itself to some dark little corner at the back of your mind and only decides to come out much later when the coast is clear. So the only option I was left with was this thought that kept flashing across my brain like a news broadcast: I was going to be eaten.

Luckily, I narrowly escaped with my life, since the statue just bowed a little bit and then reluctantly let my hand go. But, despite the knowing that I was being a bit mellow-dramatic, I couldn't help but feel a great sense of relief when I finally turned the corner on that thing to search for my missing stomach. The knowledge that I was quite suddenly free to live the rest of my life - with all of my limbs intact, to boot! - was one of the best parts of the day.

All in all, I'd say it was a successful first venture to the Renaissance Festival. I wonder what next year will bring?

Remembering 9/11

A year ago today, I was in London for the tenth anniversary of a day that I will never forget. Whenever someone mentions the attacks, I always see the buildings burning in my mind. A mental replay of the images shown live on TV that day eleven years ago.

I was only in fifth grade, but I remember it like it was yesterday. My younger sisters don't really remember, they only know what they've seen as the years have passed and their awareness of these things becomes more defined.

But I remember. Last year, the remembering happened with a piercing clarity that was made ever clearer with rumors whispered that London might be a ten-year-anniversary target for another attack. And though nothing happened (thankfully!!), it was a somber anniversary as tourists from around the world remembered. BBC News covered all of the ceremonies happening here in America. Everyone knew, how could we forget?

(Read about my experience of the ten-year anniversary here:  http://followinghadrianswall.blogspot.com/2012/03/somber-10-year-anniversary.html)

And this year I continue to remember the people that died that day, the people that lost loved ones, the heroes that are now suffering under illness bourne of the ash that rained down on them that day, a nation bleeding and weeping, a nation uniting in the face of devastating tragedy, and the terrible emotions that marred the date "9/11" for a nation - for the world.

In the face of such tragedy, how can words be found to describe such a thing: the loss, the horror, the pure emotion, the questions?

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, so maybe this will put into emotions what I cannot say in words today.

(Picture borrowed from: http://i227.photobucket.com/albums/dd115/duhbomb08/9-11.jpg)

The Thing in the Corner

I moved into my dorm room in January not knowing what to expect. I didn't know any of my roommates and was terrified that they would be very "Mean Girl"-esque, or just horribly anti-social (like that awkward girl from Gilmore Girls). It turns out, none of us had to worry (my roommates were terribly anxious that I would be awful as well). After our required time of being around each other long enough, we all decided we were okay and, thankfully, not serial killers.

But here's the interesting thing about my room: we have a habit of losing things in the black hole that sits in the corner of our room. It hides from us most of the time - we can't actually find it, though we've tried looking - but it comes out at night when we're sleeping, or when we're not in the room during the day.

And it eats things.

Like our remotes.

We, as a room, have bought three or four new remotes for the TV this semester alone. And over the course of the semester we've tried several ways to avoid losing it.

We have a penguin stuffed animal (one of those hilarious little penguins from the movie Madagascar), and one of my roommates - in a burst of true genius - tied the remote to the penguin. TO the penguin! We called it our penguin remote and were actually very happy with it (this is not sarcasm in case anyone thinks it is, we're very serious about our penguin remote) until the poor remote was somehow detached from the penguin. And, (surprise!) it got lost into the miasmic maw of the black hole almost immediately...

I keep waiting for it to eat other things. Like my final papers ("I'm sorry professor, the black hole in the corner of my room ate my paper, I should just get an A"). Or the DVD remote (apparently it doesn't like the taste of the DVD remote because we only lost it once and then it mysteriously turned up again a few days later...). And I especially keep waiting for it to eat the extra slices of pizza my roommates left on the counter from this weekend but don't want to throw away... but, nope, it just likes the taste of the remotes we buy.

So, moral of the story: tie your remote to a penguin and it will be safe from remote-hunting, predatory black holes .

Sexy and We Know It

We've all heard the song "Sexy and I Know It" by LMFAO. But how many of us have seen the music video?

It features men walking around in animal-print fabric that is painted onto their bodies and includes a special cameo of them shaking their willies at the camera.

But because it's sung by male musicians, it's funny. We laugh and emulate this behavior, especially the ten-year-old boy my roommate nannies. But if this song were to have been sung by a woman? Admit it, your mind jumped to skimpy clothing and booties shaking all over the place, right?

So why is it okay for men to stand around shaking their willies (I thank the Brits for this hilarious word) everywhere on-screen, when it would be considered promiscuous for a woman to do the same? I don't hear any huge public outrage over this music video when there would have been if a female artist had done the same thing (Lady GaGa, Beyonce, Madonna, Britney Spears -- you name the female artist and you'll find she's been criticized for being too promiscuous).

A question I'm not sure I should answer outright (although I might get more comments if I did). Intriguing, isn't it?

Personally, I find LMFAO's song hilarious and their music video ... interesting. I think that's a safe word, one the conservatives can't condemn me for and one the liberals can't interpret one way or the other in order to accuse me of liking it. Men running around in barely there animal-print speedos just doesn't do it for me (just to clarify), but the fact that there hasn't been some huge outcry at the inappropriateness of it says a lot about our culture. If it had been women in the same skimpy attire (with a band-aid-top in concession of perceived modesty), would people have reacted as indifferently?

A Short Reflection on Traveling Abroad

I'm back! My three and a half months in the U.K. and Europe were amazing! For more about that, check out my travel blog here: http://followinghadrianswall.blogspot.com/ 
(P.S. I'm still working on getting it finished, so be patient and I hope you enjoy what's up there so far.)

I must say, being back in the States has been very weird for me. On the one hand, it was such a relief to fly into New Jersey (probably the only time I'll ever be thankful to fly into New Jersey -- I'm a New York person, I think). But it's very bittersweet; when I finally sleep-staggered off the plane, I already missed the calm British voice saying "mind the gap."

Being abroad has widened my perspective of the world and I have a lot more topics to write about now, so keep following to see more of all that fun stuff. Thanks for following me; enjoy!

Explanation of Temporary Hiatus

Hello, my wonderful readers.

After much debating with myself, I've decided to start an entirely new blog for my semester abroad. Because I'll have more than enough to blog about while I'm over there, I've decided to take a temporary hiatus on this blog.

You can follow my adventures in Europe at: http://followinghadrianswall.blogspot.com/

Thanks for reading!! :) I love you all for it!

Tornado, Tomato

Earlier this summer, a friend of mine had a post on Facebook (yes, I know all of my friends personally on Facebook) asking how she could help her daughter stop being afraid a tornado was going to hit their house.

The beginning of the summer heralded tornado season for those of us here in the Midwest, and they hit full-force with unusual frequency. An area really close (a couple neighborhoods over) to my friend's house was hit in one of the tornadoes and her daughter is now terrified that one will hit their house. Understandable.

Now, this may seem really weird (dare I even confess this particular story?), but when she asked for help, I reminisced on my terror of tornadoes when I was younger.

My fear, unlike my friend's daughter, originated from my mom. Now, let me give you some context before you go blame my poor mother:

My dad is a total adrenaline junkie. When tornadoes hit our area (as they so often do in the Midwest), he would go out and try to find them. While there are many things I could say about this, some of them involving his earlier exploits in life (like the time with the moose ... no, I will refrain and save that story for another time), but I think I'll simply limit it to this ... *ahem* My mom was terrified that her (bored) children were going to die if they went into a room with windows. (In a house covered with windows, our only shelter was a meager bit of hallway we crammed into, not very fun for a five year old more interested in toys than being safe.) She was also frantically trying to get a hold of my dad (this is a time before cell phones were more common than toilet paper), who was nowhere to be found - he was out chasing the tornadoes, leaving a young (terrified and fiercely protective) mother alone to protect her children from elements that were not under her control.

Okay, so now you know the context, back to the story.

After seeing how scared my mom was of this mysterious thing called a tornado, my five-year-old self was scared that this thing my strong, protective mother couldn't stop from hurting me, was going to burst into our house and hurt us all.

Except, that when my mom said 'tornado,' I heard 'tomato.'

True story.

So, I believed (for much longer than I dare confess to) that giant tomatoes seven feet tall, with arms, legs, and angry faces, went around smashing windows and houses down. Because that's what mom had said, and mom knows everything, right?

In the end, the tomatoes didn't get us and my overactive imagination moved on to more interesting things. But as tornado season is in full force this year, I thought I would try to add some tomatoes to the sauce to make things a tiny bit more lighthearted.