To say I get around these days is a massive understatement. Recently, your buddy Snakens made it down for the Texas Renaissance Festival, commonly dubbed 'Renfest'. The festival traditionally holds 8 themed weekends, and this particular weekend was titled the Scottish Highland Fling. Donning my kilt and broadsword, I made the journey through the forests of east Texas, an adventure I'll not soon forget.
Renfest is located near Conroe, tucked away in the woods outside the small town of Plantersville; a perfect setting for any medieval era. Following a long caravan of vehicles, I made it to the festival gates around 11:30am. Joining me were the lovely Ryall twins, Elizabeth and Rachel, who you definitely remember from the Shuffleboard Mania video.
Once I got to the entryway, I called Elizabeth to let her know I'd arrived. She told me to hang tight while she and Rachel came over to give me my discounted ticket. While waiting, a lady asked to take my picture, stating that she wanted photos of good-lookin' men in kilts. Well, she obviously came to the right person. I mean, come on, I've got my tartan threads, my renaissance shirt, sword, shades, and Aussie hat. How could you NOT want some of that?
The twins finally came out front, wearing what looked like steampunk attire. And I must tell you, they looked rather stunning. But really, they'd look great in any garb, be it Scottish, Pirate, or Roman Bacchanal.
It's like I've said before: if you've got it, flaunt it. I do it every day...
ANOTHER ROAD TO ANOTHER TIME
It was great to see Rachel and Elizabeth after all this time. They're regulars at Renfest, sparing no expense on their outfits. They wore checkered corsets, gold-rimmed goggles, and feathered top hats - steampunk all the way. After Elizabeth gave me my ticket, we strode into the festival and into a world unlike anything I'd imagined.
The area was magnificent to behold. Enclosed in fortress-like walls, the festival spans over 50 acres and resembles a Victorian-era town. You've got replicas of the Globe Theatre, English-style pubs, sword blacksmiths, and real Celtic bands. Even the road is made of old English cobblestone. Down to the smallest detail, Renfest captures it with stunning accuracy.
First stop was the leather shop, filled with more steampunkers. I felt like I was in Around the World in 80 Days. Since I needed something to carry my sword, the twins helped me pick out a leather belt with sword straps (commonly known as a frog). Afterwards, we headed to Rachel's car to acquire some more accessories. She gave me a leather pouch for my camera, and a drinking horn for all the mead we would soon imbibe.
We then traversed the area to catch various stage shows. One was this fire-juggling duo, whose act consisted of throwing torches around unsuspecting fans and balancing beer on their foreheads. The next was this wayward band of gypsies, known as Wine and Alchemy. The group consisted of a sitar player, a fiddler, several guitarists, and a belly-dancing singer. Oh, and there was this guy who looked like the maharajah from Indiana Jones. Here I got several great photos, including key shots of the Ryall twins applying lip gloss. We also managed to fill the horn with some apple pie-flavored ale. Told you it didn't take long...
Walking further down the cobblestone road, we chanced upon two German fellows with their tankards of beer. These guys are Renfest celebrities - they're pictured on the brochure. I laughed and reveled with these merry folks from the Rhineland. They even taught me how to say "that's what she said" in Bavarian. Michael Scott would be proud.
We toured the expanse of the festival, drinking ale and meeting more interesting characters in this strange and wonderful place.
HARBINGER ALES OF THE NIGHT
As dusk began to settle, we mosied on over to the picnic area. And by picnic, I mean wenches, beer, and fireworks. We ran into a barbarian whose staff consisted of a growing supply of braziers. We saw the Monty Python Knights of the Round Table. A couple of stormtroopers, with Leia in tow, came by and got some photos with us. Apparently they just couldn't let go of Halloween weekend.
And I was formally introduced to the Drunken Monks, a liberal sect of friars who openly profess salvation through alcohol consumption. These guys are as tough as nails, something I'd find out later that night.
After an impressive fireworks display, Snakes and our beloved twins headed back to the leather shop. They had to get ready for their Saturday night drum circle. This involved, well, drums and a bonfire. Not to mention a slew of belly dancers. Rawr!
Rachel also hooked me up with a bottle of Loki Ale. Now Loki is true to its namesake, the Norse god of mischief. It's like Gentleman Jack, only sweeter and more diabolical; another thing I'd find out later on as the evening progessed.
We then parted ways to rendezvous at the campground and into one of the more surreal nights of my life.
PARTY IN THE VALHALLA
I arrived at the campsite, famously known as 'Valhalla'. It's got a huge bonfire in the middle, and there's a parachute strung up in the trees above. I called the twins to let them know where I was, and began to set up my tent. To my chagrin, the tent was much, much smaller than the advertised photo. The label said it was a two-person tent, but they must have meant children or midgets. For this piece of crap stood less than three feet tall and measured only four feet wide. No wonder I got it for just $18.
The pirates nearby eventually saw my tent, and started jeering drunkenly at me. I casually retorted that we were in tough economic times, and people had to scale back certain expenses, including camping. Another person asked if the tent was for me or for my dog. And Rachel, when she saw it, just laughed out loud and asked me why the eff did I buy a kiddie's tent.
FYI: if you shop for camping gear at Wal-mart, make dang sure the items in the store match what's on the web site.
Regardless, I was starting to feel pretty good. The Loki had relaxed me quite a bit, and I schmoozed with several of the Valhalla folk. Rachel broke out her violin and played some classical nocturne pieces. We were starting to gather a crowd by our campsite. It was a beautiful sight indeed.
Afterwards, the drums commenced and the twins engaged in belly dancing. I couldn't help but think of that famous Black Eyed Peas song. Tonight was gonna be a good night.
THE DRUNKEN MONKS
After the twins retired for the evening, I took my Loki ale to the campground of the Drunken Monks. I could see why their area was so popular. These guys were leading a non-stop drum circle that captivated the attention of not one, but two liberally clad ladies, who belly danced the night away. And I must say, they were not shy about displaying *ahem* certain features...
Even better, the Monks were distributing free beer. Now who could say no to that?
I got a chance to participate in the drum circle. I'm not a drummer, but I was somehow able to hammer out a beat that fit in quite well; odd, considering I have no rhythm. I attribute this to the spiritual power the Monks infused into our circle. Either that, or the beer.
I KICK ARSE FOR THE LORD
Around 3:00 AM, we got a visitor. Some shirtless dude in jeans stopped by, observing our festivities. He was obviously inebriated, but then again, so was everyone else that night. But there was something different about this fellow, something almost - sociopathic.
A short time later, my hunch proved correct. I was sitting on a couch talking to one of the belly dancers, when I saw the shirtless dude almost fall backwards into the fire. The head monk (known as 'Octavius') caught the guy groping his girlfriend, and swiftly exercised his Marine combat training. The sociopath dropped an F-bomb and took a swing at Octavius, who caught his arm and pinned him back with a rear half-choke. Another monk jumped in at that point, and simultaneously thigh-kicked him and delivered a punch squarely to his jaw.
None of this seemed to faze the shirtless dude, at which point I realized he was probably on something other than alcohol. He hit Octavius again in the ribs, and it took three people to forcefully eject him from the campsite. I witnessed them kick him all the way past the RV and into the woods.
We thought we were done with Mr. Social Misfit, but twenty minutes later, he showed up again. He plopped down on the ground by the couch, looking at us with stupid defiance in his glazed eyes. This time, me and the rest of the Monks all surrounded our soon-to-be-hurting friend. Octavius brandished a thick Maglite flashlight (the same kind the cops use), and warned him to get out. The guy retorted with another F-bomb, and drunkenly informed us he wasn't budging.
Wrong answer.
Octavius and another monk dragged him behind the couch, hit him over the head a couple of times, and pinned his arm behind his back. At that point, we yelled for Charlie, one of the resident police officers who patrols the Renfest campgrounds. He sped over on his ATV to where we'd subdued the shirtless idiot, and led him away in handcuffs. For all their humble mannerisms, the Monks clearly drew the line at aggravated assault.
Ah, where grace and mercy end, ass-kicking begins.
SHEEP THAT BELLY DANCE AND THE KUNG FU SCOTSMAN
After getting approximately 2.5 hours of sleep (thanks to some teenage jackass who ran around tooting his horn at 6:00 AM), I had breakfast with the Monks. They offered me fruit, biscuits, and even gave me a discounted ticket for Sunday's admission. I guess my part in subduing the sociopath had scored points with them. Besides, you know how the Snakeman makes fast friends.
I made my way over to the festival gates. After about two hours of photographing, I hurried over to the noonday parade. This gave me an exciting opportunity to see all the Renfest participants. I saw Spanish conquistadors, the King and Queen of Renfest, various knights, and the famous centaur (whose image is actually on the Wikipedia entry for Renaissance festivals). Near the parade's end, I spotted the Ryall twins among the other women adorned in chainmail.
They had their chainmail garments strategically fashioned, and were dolled up like sheep. As they strode by, they seductively shouted "BAAAAAAA!" to the crowd of onlookers. Now that's some serious wool there, folks.
The parade ended at the chainmail shop, where the twins and all the other ladies had been outfitted. We were treated to a belly dancing show on the upper deck. The show featured several Egyptian-style dancers, a girl dressed as a cat (also named Kat, coincidentally), and our favorite twins. I could see why they suggested parents might want to relocate their kids to a more family-friendly area. This stuff wasn't exactly G-rated.
After the show, I met up with Elizabeth and Rachel for one last stroll around the park. Rachel hadn't quite forgiven me for downing all of the Loki Ale the previous night (among other shenanigans). Plus, stories had been circulating about me all morning. Something about a guy in a kilt and Aussie hat, who nearly stumbled into a fire while clutching a bottle of Loki.
This stunt apparently earned me the nickname 'Stumbly'. A fitting title for any drunken Scotsman.
Kat had a newborn in tow, so I volunteered to push her baby stroller around. This ended up being a smart maneuver on my part. For one, it got me out of the doghouse with Rachel. Secondly, it helped display my chivalrous side, something that's become all but dead in the outside world. Definitely a win-win scenario.
There was still some more footage (heh) to be captured in this place before leaving. I made sure to get a couple of Snakes nods from the twins, in addition to their seductive "BAAAAAA" sound. And I let Elizabeth take over filming duties while I performed one of my kung fu forms. In my kilt, no less!
THEY SING TOO, SNAKENS
Probably the most magical moment occurred when the twins sang 'Happy Birthday' to a barbarian named Ben. The harmony between these girls was amazing; their grace and poise warming to the soul. I'm so glad my camera battery lasted just long enough to capture it on digital film. That experience alone was worth the four-hour drive.
Thus, Snakes experienced his first (but certainly not last) Texas Renaissance Festival. I'll forever cherish the mead, the Drunken Monks, the music, and the Valhalla campground.
Most of all, I will cherish the Ryall sisters, who kindly adopted me into the Renfest family; whose lavish beauty and humor only serve to reveal twin hearts of gold.
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