Yesterday I had an experience that transported me back in time. I am not talking about the kind of taking you back in time when you hear a song you remember from high school. I am talking about like medieval kind of back in time. I went to the Maryland Renaissance Festival.
Having never gone to something like that, I had no idea what to expect. I did know one thing: there would be beer.
The first thing I noticed, of course, were the people dressed up and speaking in accents. There were fat dudes with funny hats and frilly shirts, merrily strolling around shouting merry things at the people passing by. This may have been because of the beer in their cups, or maybe the banter was just to take their minds off of the fact that they are middle-aged men wearing tights from the Middle Ages. There were ladies in Renaissance era dresses who also looked merry, but were for some reason not wearing tights.
Those were the staffers, the real weirdos were the festivalgoers. While the vast majority of people walked around in modern day clothing (like myself), there was a clear contingency of people ranging from confused teens to creepy old guys wearing period costumes I assume they made themselves, because you can’t really go out and buy thatkind of thing. The men were wearing more or less the same thing as the male staffers were, but the women were sluttier.
And there were boobies. Boobies were everywhere. While to the average heterosexual male reading this that may sound rather hot, you can take my word for it, it was anything but. The women who were showing off their cleavage were enthusiastic about doing so. They were so enthusiastic that they wore tight, corset-like things to let their cleavage hang out but not fall out. One woman in particular had boob rolls. The best way I can describe it was that they looked like the tops of muffins coming out of the wrapper. On her shoulder blade was a tattoo of a monster truck–obviously from the Renaissance.
All of this scenery, coupled with the good beer and fried Twinkies, made me wonder what’s so special about that period of time that allows it its own festival, in North America, no less. Why don’t the Dark Ages get their own festival? Or the early 20th century? Why do we not see people as enthusiastic about dressing up and acting like they are from any century in BC (toga parties do not count)?
Then again, perhaps there are enough opportunities for people to parade their inner dork and utter lack of something better to do.