“Do you guys want to go to the Renaissance Festival on Saturday?”
In unison, “What is a Renaissance Festival?” Except Drew said Red Sauce Festival.
“It is people pretending they live in medieval times. They dress up and talk funny.”
In unison, “What is medieval?” Except Drew said midval.
“It is when there were kings, queens, princes, princesses, knights, jesters, dragons, wizards, and all kinds of interesting people. Do you want to go?”
“Yeaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh! Can we dress up,” asked Will?
“Oh Daddy, can I bring my sword,” Drew screamed a little too psychotically for my liking. It was as if for years he has been looking for a good opportunity to wield a sword in public and has finally struck gold.
“Yes, you guys can dress up. But it might be hot and I’m telling you right now I’m not carrying your stuff around if you get tired of wearing it.”
I looked in the rear view mirror and saw Will smiling ear to ear. “Daddy, I bet kids will dress up as princesses. I sure would like to, but they may not be ready for a boy as a princess.”
In a low sort of man-voice, Drew announced, “I’m going to bring my sword!!”
“Yeah, Will, there will probably be princesses there. I’m not sure how happy you would be in a dress anyway. It will be hot.”
“Maybe I’ll just wear my Wizard cape and hat. What are you going to wear daddy?”
“I am going to wear a big smile, a glorious attitude, and clean underwear.”
“Daddy!” Laughing. “We are going to wear dirty underwear! With poop in it!”
The ensuing conversation remained in the bathroom for about ten minutes. I have to say I haven’t been to one of these things since I moved to Colorado fifteen years ago. I have a loose rule about not attending venues that sell giant drumsticks. It just tends to draw a demographic I don't really fit into. I guess I'm a festival snob. Inevitably those same places sell food on sticks. Unless it’s a popsicle or ice cream, I can’t think of anything that should be eaten off a stick. But for the sake of the boys getting to do something new and different, I knew I had to make an exception.
Saturday came along and we made the hour commute to medieval times. It felt like a long drive down I-25 more than time travel, but sure enough, we arrived within the walls of a castle full of odd talking and looking souls. I wasn’t quite prepared for the heavy adult spin on everything. There was a lot of boobage. And the little shows they did were filled with sexual innuendo. Prince Charming and Prince Dashing are little man-whores.
There were lots of cool kid focused things though. The boys enjoyed getting dragon tears from a fairy. As you can see, they decided not to get dressed up after all.
Isn’t she cute? Of course she wanted a dollar for the pictures and dragon tears which I was happy to give. But man, every ‘character’ in the festival wanted a handout if you even made eye contact with them. I’ve had less pressure at strip clubs to fork out singles.
At the end of the day, we watched one more show. It was called the Washing Well Wenches. Commonly referred to as the Wenches Show. Dad of the Year, I am.
“What is a wench daddy?”
“Um, those two ladies right there.”
“Why are they wenches?”
“Are you thirsty? Who wants a root beer?!”
In unison, “I do!”
“Wait daddy, why are their teeth blacked out? Is that real?”
“If you think it’s real, then it is.”
The wenches put on a funny show that involved getting the audience wet with their laundry. But it was indeed filled with innuendo and some pretty direct propositioning of various men in the crowd. Even though I was sitting there with my two kids, they made a comment to me along the lines of, “Hey handsome, feel free to let us wash your clothes,” while they made some crazy tongue action that I haven’t seen since watching the movie Porky’s.
"Daddy! She called you handsome! Why did she stick her tongue out though?"
"Have some more root beer, son."
At the end of their show, they picked four guys from the crowd and had them do silly things to earn a rose to give to their women. It was funny and the kids actually laughed a lot. The show ended and as we were walking out, Will said, “Daddy, you don’t have anyone to give a flower to, do you?”
I looked at him and said, “No son, I guess I don’t.”
He said, “Its okay. I don’t either. And neither does Drew.”
“It’s just us guys right now, huh? You think that’s cool?”
“Yeah daddy. Don’t worry,” and he held my hand.