Huzzah!

Black Friday means the day that retailers finally start turning a profit for their fiscal year. It's the day that hordes of Americans take to the stores at four in the morning for a day-long shopping spree meant to kick-off their Christmas shopping season. It's also the day that I hunker down at home and refuse to get within a four block radius of any store (no matter how obscure or ignored) in an admirable attempt to avoid said hordes of Americans.

That's why we went to the Texas Renaissance Festival instead. The weather was perfect that day: overcast, with temps hovering around 60 degrees. It had been about fifteen years since I last visited a Renaissance Festival, one in Minnesota. I remember it being pretty cool, expensive, and a bit circus-freaky. The Texas Renaissance Festival seemed just as expensive, but less carnivally. I was simply amazed at the size of the place. The entire venue is a massive circle. The different stores, restaurants, and stages form the perimeter. It's carved up into different sections according to ethnic food type. So there's a Polish, English, French, German, Italian, and Greek sections.

There's also a jousting field. We attended a show which was more theatrics than authentic jousting. Lances would sometimes explode spectacularly even though the knights themselves typically fell off their horses seconds after actually being hit. Medieval Times in Dallas proved a more visceral jousting experience. Those guys choreographed their moves to the point that blows and falls looked real. Still, the Renaissance Festival captured the spirit of the ancient contest so I guess that's what counts.

But the costumes stole the show that day. A handful of people came to the Festival dressed in authentic armor and costumes, some so intricate and detailed, they positively reeked atmosphere. One confident fellow strode the grounds as a centaur: the front part of his suit included leggings resembling that of a hoofed critter. A back set of hooves wheeled behind him. He wore no shirt, even though the daytime temperature never hit past 60 degrees; I guess that hairy chest of his kept him warm. The poor guy never got to walk farther than ten feet before someone asked him to stop for a picture. He always obliged.

Another participant dressed in red/maroon leather, most of which was sculpted to look like leaves. Two antlers topped his helmet and he carried a staff to finish the look. I actually got my picture taken with this guy. My sister-in-law took it so as soon as she sends me the picture, I'll post it here.

We arrived at the Festival around noon and stayed nearly to closing. To be honest, I didn't want to leave. As the afternoon waned, we sat down at a tiny pub and gulped down hot chocolate and mead, relaxing and watching the costumed wander past us. Not long after, as the girls were taking potty breaks in preparation for the long trip home, I wandered over to a troupe performing Scottish music, Tartanic. I'm part Scottish myself, so I dig the whole kilt scene. And bagpipes coupled with some rhythmic drumming, now that's some tunes for ya! It's nails down a chalk board for some, but for me it's time to do a jig.

Now that we know how entertaining it is, I declared the Festival an annual event for the family. I'm even thinking of tracking down my clan's kilt so I can stride the grounds proudly, dangerously. Perhaps confront and strike down rival clan members who dare to aspire to the greatness of the Thomson name. Aye laddy!