L.A.R.P., frolf, and Kemly's long lost people
Kristin, Kemly and I were going frisbee golfing, or more nerdily monikered frolf. Frolf is definitely not a sport. It is somewhere between miniature golf and spending half an hour riding around Walmart on the back of a cart like it was a skate board in the spectrum of taxing physical activities. This particular frolf course we were going to is the puniest course I have seen, but Kemly is only five and contrary to popular belief, merely human.
To give some context to our day before going frolfing Kemly had been playing a lot of Zelda recently and his overtures as Link were not limited merely to wii play. He had been wearing a shield and carrying a sword for a few weeks at this point. Kemly always wins sword fights with his action figures. Come to think of it he always wins sword fights with his mommy too. Before we loaded up into the car to go frisbee golfing we made Kemly take off his shield and leave his sword behind.We did this because I have no idea how we would explain a sword accident on a frolf course to a E.R. nurse, so we decided to eliminate that possibility before it became a probability.
When we got to the course there were people none of us could quite understand laying seige to the course. They looked one part Gamestop clerk, one part... knight of the roundtable. Have fun picturing that mental image...you're welcome. All three of us unpuzzeled this little quandry simultaneously as they began sword fighting each other in synchronized waves. From what I can tell they divy up teams in classical gym class dodge ball style, with the worst swordsmen (or in this case swordslady... I'm 85% sure it was a swordslady, maybe 75% sure) getting picked last. From the look on the face of that sword wielding individual, I think getting picked last was an inevitability for her/him. There were two teams. One was named heroes, and the other goblins. Boths sides looked pretty goblinny to me, but what do I know.
When Kemly figured out what was happening he looked up at me with a deep sense of betrayal in his eyes. His look said it all. "These are my people!!! How could you?!?! You made me take my sword and shield off just before getting in the car! Finally, I have found my people!"
If you have never seen L.A.R.P. (Live action role play) in person, I would highly suggest it. You'll laugh. You'll cry. You'll pity their parents. A runner friend of mine who runs by this field regularly says he sees them all year long every Saturday even on Christmas. Snowing? L.A.R.P. Christmas? L.A.R.P. Anniversary? O.K. I got a little carried away there, there are no anniversaries to be celebrated by this group. Other than maybe the six month anniversary of getting the high score on centipede at the closest arcade.
I really want to one day go buy a pool noodle and join them. (their swords were pool noodles with pvc pipe inside) I am willing to wager if I showed up with a L.A.R.P. approved weapon they would let me get my L.A.R.P. on. If one of "those people" showed up at one of my social environments, I wonder if they would be greeted so warmly. There is something about the marginalized that makes them open. People that are socially attractive for one reason or another are accustomed to people wanting to interact with them. The marginalized are by definition not. The sword wielding goblins found community. Good for them. They found people who wanted to invest into their lives. Good for them. Would I have invested in them had my paths crossed with theirs? Knowing myself, probably not.
Thank you L.A.R.P. enthusiasts. You taught me about community, you reminded me about the nature of hospitality, and challenged me to look past people's proverbial swords and armor.
