Okay, I can’t actually claim that this is the worst Renaissance Fair ever, but I am hard pressed to believe there is one as bad as this without involving a hosting elementary school for the deaf and blind. This was no more medieval than the post-eighties transformation of the princess/girlfriends of Bill and Ted. (Wild Stallions!) No, this was a huge suck. Excalibur dinner theatre would be sad for this. Enter the Idaho’s Renaissance Fair of Shit.
What you see above is a real Renaissance Fair in all of it’s glory. There should be knights, mead, giant turkey legs, whore-ish wenches and horse poop! I should enter the gates a normal guy and leave a loser and proud owner of a sword. There should be everyday people who have grown a perfect Spinal Tap mullet just for this occasion and sing ballads of while juggling. Damn it, this is the time when we can all reference Monty Python’s Quest for the Holy Grail for the first time since high school! But not in Idaho.
I really don’t know what I was expecting. Sure I live in a small college town where the elevation out numbers the population but come on. If you are going to fuck around and say there is a Renaissance Fair in town, don’t forget the Renaissance. For awhile I thought that I was at the wrong park and was pretty giddy to think not only is there a Renaissance fair in town but there is a hippy art fair too!
Then I saw the Ye Ol’ Hot Dog Stand supporting the local Church of Later Day Saints. That is when I knew that there was not the Renaissance Fair that I have grown to love but a dirty, hippy craft fair in disguise with castle hot dog stands and a few nods to the days of knights and dragons.
Nods like custom-made shoes which is a stretch, but back then, they did have shoe smiths. The guy selling them had huge dread-locks and I over heard a woman asking him a question. Perhaps it was my untimely eavesdropping but when she asked him how he cleans them he told her with herbal dread soap. She said, “not your hair, the shoes”. For some reason that caught me so off guard I just couldn’t contain myself.
Also, right after I took this picture I met eyes with an old dude who nodded in approval. He thought I was taking pictures of these girls’ asses.
I am all about going green and not wasting what can be reused but I thought it was a little ridiculous to have guards in front of the three separate containers, ensuring no one throws a paper cup in the aluminum bin. I had just bought apple cider and was too intimidated to throw out my gum in fear I would have a high school girl scream at me for a wrong toss. It really didn’t matter anyway. Oh and the apple cider? It was hot apple juice. Fuck! Ass!
There were a few people who came “dressed to impressed” but like me, they were fooled by the title. It seemed like they were invited to a costume party by some dicks and when they showed up, it was just a normal party.
Damn, this is kind of a fucked up picture, eh? For the life of me I can’t remember how or why I took it. To the unassuming eye, it appears that the kid is trying to stab a dismounted child cyclist. You know what? Let’s keep it at that.
And this is what where I leave you. A great symbol of the Renaissance Fair I experienced this weekend. There are no words. Wait, yeah there is. Total shit. Hmmm, guess that’s two.
Don’t you mean ‘Wyld Stallyns!’?
You’re right!!! So sorry.
That was me who said you were right. Damn iPhone app sucks for WordPress.
There’s nothing better (or something like that) that small town fairs…of any kind. You ought to come to the Barter Faire this fall in Tonasket WA. It’s epic.
I say we meet in Leavensworth for October fest.
That’s a given. I live quite close to Leavenworth.
They have a pretty good Reniassance Faire here in Tuxedo New York. Everyone is in costume, in fact you feel out of place if you’re not. The village was built just for the faire. Turkey legs and cleavage everywhere.
The one you went to looks like a B movie set.
I went to the worst one in the history of ever. Too bad and so sad for me. I need turkey legs now.
At least you got to see a couple of nice asses tho.
“I am hard pressed to believe there is one as bad as this without involving a hosting elementary school for the deaf and blind”
“but when she asked him how he cleans them he told her with herbal dread soap. She said, “not your hair, the shoes”. ”
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA….can’t contain myself!!! 😀 😀
“Oh and the apple cider? It was hot apple juice. Fuck! Ass!”
well to that I just say booooooooooooooooo! 😦
I’m so sorry you had to go through this, but really I am not; you are noble, good sir knight, for surviving this shitastic fair and living to tell the tale 😉
Thank you, fair maiden. You should have been there.
Wish I had been there, horrible things are great when you have a partner in crime to make fun of everything with 😉
I seriously can’t breathe. I don’t know what’s funnier, you getting the visual thumbs up from the old dude or the thought of you walking around with the look of “WTF-edness??” on your face.
Almost as funny as Shane and his five octaves, Will.
There was a lot of WTF-edness there. I had an expression of bewilderment that they would use the term “renaissance” so loosely. Sad, really.
i have made so many people read the dreadlock paragraph it’s not even funny. wait yes it is.
Everyone with dreads should. 😉
Seriously man, if we’re both still in the ‘scow for Ren-fair next year; we should go all out. Even make Renaissance-age styled underwear and codpieces. Then we could go hit on busty bar-maids that are squeezed in their daughter’s corsets.
Beat you on the ‘worse Renfaire ever’. Back in 07, we made the long and arduous trip from Indianapolis to Bloomington (’bout 90 miles – it wasn’t arduous till we got there!) There it was, set in a Hobbiton-like Glade on the college campus, Unicorns and Centaurs gambolled in the glade, fairies and nymphs flew haphazardly like deranged ‘Battle of Brtain’ fighters in the hot sun and REAL men fought other REAL men, Mano a mano……..and then the car lurched in the parking lot and I woke up to see the REAL Bloomington Faire.
Twenty stalls. Eighteen of them selling Crystals and Tarot cards. Two selling soda. The cast? Three or four college students in red crushed velvet spandex tights, and half a dozen wannabe Gandalfs with hooded robes and staffs. It took about thirteen minutes to go through the faire and that was twice around, then we went off to Oliver Winery to drown our sorrows in free wine tasting for the rest of the afternoon, getting subsequently HAMMERED!
On the trip home, I dreamed of Unicorns, men with Swords and Centaurs and fairies. Funnily enough, Bloomington faire closed that year!
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