Just kidding. These are exactly the boobs you’re looking for.
My trip to the Maryland Renaissance Festival on Sunday was the end of an era, in a way. This time next year when the Festival comes back to town, the chance I’ll be living driving-distance from Annapolis, driving-distance from my parents, and driving-distance from the city where I fell in love with Jonathan will be slim-to-none. This time next year, when the Festival comes back to town, I’ll be putting on my bachelorette flower garland and hoping to drink enough mead to stop the nightmares that I left all my RSVP reply cards in Kentucky, and now I’ll never be able to finalize the reception seating chart in time to make sure everybody’s aunts and uncles are at equidistant tables from all their children and respect families, SO THAT NOBODY CAN CLAIM I WAS PLAYING FAVORITES.
(I recently had a dream that, two days before the wedding, I’d completely forgotten to book a florist. I was trying to rationalize that a wedding without flowers would be okay, because some people are allergic to flowers anyway and they’d probably attract a lot of bees that would sting my guests, who are probably DEATHLY allergic, and it’s like a 20-minute drive to the nearest hospital so all my guests would die and I don’t remember seeing a premises liability clause in my contract with the venue.)
To end this fearless era, and to add to my first trip to the Renaissance Festival this season, Jacki and I decided we’d get there as early as humanly possible, and spend the day trying to find our way around until Becky got there. (Becky, I want you to know that we did a really good job. We’ve learned, instead of maps, to use important landmarks like those animal statues carved out of wood next to the hammocks.)
This was our first time getting to the Renaissance Festival before the gates to merriment opened, which means it was our first time seeing the opening act. I’m not sure how we’ve ever gotten through the Festival without it, because it provided a lot of anachronistic context and, thanks to our friend Julia playing Isobel Yaxley, a lot of humping.
The day was off to a fabulous start, and we weren’t even drunk yet.
It was the second-to-last weekend of MD Renaissance Festival 2012, and it was a beautiful fall day, which means by noon it was almost too crowded to do anything, and felt suspiciously like being on the DC metro during rush hour. But with more chainmail.
Jacki and I started the day by high-tailing it to the crab pretzel stand, and then immediately to our favorite bartender.
Since we’d heard that the previous day’s Renn Fest tickets had sold completely out by mid-afternoon, we took it upon ourselves to do ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING IMPORTANT AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE, so that we wouldn’t have to stand in line to do it later.
By the time we were two drinks in and I’d purposely avoided the kiosk where they sell pocket knives with “U.S. Army” printed down the side, the sun had started to come out. And I quickly went from complaining about being too cold to complaining about being too hot. I don’t like temperatures.
So we stopped by the Miles Tonne Custom Leather shop, where we saw the price tag for a corset and tried to leave immediately. But the staff was friendly and fantastic, and they offered to outfit us in some of their favorite pieces, just for fun. Since we were ending an era, we figured some costumes were fitting (and had already come in matching skirts).
This is when we really started to get into the spirit of the day. It was either from the leather, or from the fourth drink. You choose.
On my previous trip, I’d stopped to see Julia in her Little Red Riding Hood children’s show, but I was eager on this trip to see her in the Chess Game. I’ve seen a lot of shows at Renn Fest throughout the years, but I was right to be excited about this one, because it was easily one of my favorites.
If Annapolis, Maryland is even a little bit accessible to you next weekend, go see this. If at any point you feel overwhelmed by the bright costumes and heavy accents, spend a few minutes just watching Isobel Yaxley’s face. You will leave happy.
A lot of the other performances we wanted to see were too crowded by the time we found them (Becky didn’t get there until, like, 2pm, so blame her), so we were only able to capture snippets of other entertainment.
One of the things I do like about a crowded Renaissance Festival is that you’re almost guaranteed to run into somebody you know.
We also took a moment to honor those who could not be with us this year. Namely, our friend Grace, who is saving the world via the Peace Corps, and we’re just here getting drunk. Grace is better than us.
And now that you’ve scrolled through this whole post because I promised boobs and you know I’d never lie to you about boobs, I’ll get down to the cleavage.
First, an honorable mention to all the wonderful cleavage I solicited throughout the day. People at the Renaissance are surprisingly receptive when you ask to take a picture of their hoisted breasts:
The third-place cleavage award goes to the trio who helped me make my scarf into a shirt at Bullseye.
Second place goes to this beautiful woman selling flowers, for her tasteful display of dagger-in-cleavage, and her charming smile.
And the first-place cleavage award goes to…
I don’t think I have to explain this one.
Until next year, Maryland Renaissance Festival. I hope you’re ready for my bachelorette party.