Faire Rundown, Weeks One Through Three
I remember when I used to gush about every individual day of Faire, and go into the minute details of each little bit of it.
Of course, due to time constraints, I've procrastinated on
Week One, Saturday:
Weather forecast said rain. They were dead wrong. None all day. In fact, it was scarcely even cloudy. Followed the new street group schedule to a "T", and made sure to look out for the new blood. See who was getting over, and who wasn't, and see who might need some further advice. Workshops, being what they are, still don't adequately prepare someone for a day at the Festival, so you don't want to leave someone thrown to the wolves.
Disturbing thing I hope won't be a trend... I've never seen a patron drink themselves until they couldn't walk or stand personally. I saw it twice on opening day. Times of economic woe make people turn to the bottle, this could be clear evidence of it. Oh, yeah, others were pretty blotto that paid to come through the gate. I had to Captain Peabody my first performer out of danger, too. She-Who-Tempts-Scotsmen, and El Pollo Caliente had a group of lushes roll up on them, and try to sucker them into reading erotic poetry. And by erotic poetry, I mean a quick story about a whore who desperately wanted to rent out her ass in vile ways. I was two steps ahead of the gals on this one, and led them out of there. Oh, then SWTS had a stalker from last season roll up on her, and I had to c-block that guy, as well.
All and all, a good day, though.
Week One, Sunday-
The day mother nature had mood swings. Only 2800 people or so came to the show. Weather went from cloudy, to rainy, to hail, to cloudy, to clear... and then cycled through that pattern again... twice. Really odd. Due to the weather, I didn't get to bring out the advice booth, or the balls. Instead, I made it a point to, on character in stage, and backstage when possible, try to get in the heads of the rookies who were struggling. Dark Grievance, in particular, is someone who perplexes me.
Hawked for a Clan Tynker show as the first storm passed. I really wish I could get time to hang with them, if they wouldn't mind my company. It never seems to be in the cards, though. Part of the curse of being a good street performer means you can't get all starry-eyed over travelling acts, though. Ah well.
The crowd was pretty friendly, in spite of the conditions, and I think Lord of the Mud realized I wasn't bullshitting him when I told him my uber-cloak really, really does the job of keeping you warm and dry.
Week Two, Saturday-
Already had my second ever Captain Peabody moment, having to wrest Miss Capulet away from two inebriated patrons who had claimed her for their escort. This took longer than expected, since she forgot what "Captain Peabody" means, and I had to say it twice. It's all good, of course. Got to do a LOT of advice booth, to make up for lost time from the first weekend.
The Medieval Baebes arrived this weekend, and I kept checking in on JT, who was fortunate enough to get the Lanky Italian Lad for backup for their visit. As such, this meant he didn't take me up on offers for breaks. There was a great moment in "D'oh!" from the heath on Saturday, but not from them. A member of the cast decided to pull out his cell phone, and Twitter all his pals on that how he was going to watch the Medieval Baebes. Hey, bad form for using a cell phone in character, right? Well he got caught. How? He forgot the director is on his Twitter list, and thus, she got notice of his plans.
Whoops.
Other than that, a good all around day.
Week Two, Sunday-
Another generous day from the crowd. Actually got a bit warm, and I pulled out my water jug to get the cast a bit wet. Went through four whole gallons in about 90 minutes. Not bad.
The real issue, I think, was WITKIU at the end of the day. We're trying to find it a better home, now that we have to finish close to the gate at the end of the day. Note: First person banned from Whack It in awhile. Overdue. Parent did not argue my logic, though. Kid still hasn't tried to re-enter after his temp-ban.
Oh yeah, worst disguise ever.
Week Two, Monday-
Finally, a day with a lot of patrons. Traffic was supposedly backed up for miles until mid-day. The street cast, or what was left of it, was given free roam, provided we were all ready to dive at the food lines once they started. I had picked King's Kitchen as my domain, but with four other people covering it... I opted to go out and set up the Advice Booth right next to the ticket lines. I was out there for about two hours, apparently. I had people chuckling, and hopefully the intended effect, to cheer them up while they waited to get last minute tickets, worked.
Other than that, watered everyone again. Made sure everybody who might not get a break was at least offered one. The quest for better WITKIU real estate went on, and outside the gate worked even less effectively on President's Day. Bequeathing grassy areas to a travelling performer, I maintain, is good karma. At least in this instance, it's someone I respect an admire, and not someone who demands acquiescence from locals. Made my decision to respect their need for the spot all the easier.
Student Day- Wednesday
High School Day was up first this year... and... it was shockingly tame. Really, things were so to plan, I still can't believe it. Although, I did learn about someone from the road who's well... an ass. If you've got free time on student day, for the record, don't go to another performer's show and start heckling them. Why? Because then the kids emulate you. For the remainder of the show, at that.
Ass.
Student Day- Thursday
Again, another student day that went oddly to plan. Well, other than the Repellant Seafood Section causing all sorts of drama at the village for the second day in a row. Stumbled right through that.
Oh yeah, and Ed the African White-Backed Vulture apparently thinks I bear a resemblance to the trainer who gives her chicken drumsticks. So Ed took a long, intimidating close look at, to put it delicately, my ass.
Twice.
My ass was not harmed, at least. The visiting children, upon threat upon my bum, were highly entertained. As was my longtime brother-from-another-mother, Senor Falcone.
Kids Days. Bah.
Third Weekend- Saturday
The first day of my annual food drop. And, for the first time, I asked to get a half day to join the village and actually cook the meal. Well, at least get it started. This year's menu? Marinara sauce and spaghetti.
Which, I've never had to cook for about, oh... 120. Spending a romantic night with Alicia peeling and slicing twenty bulbs of garlic (as romantic as that aroma is)as prep work made it a lot easier. But yeah, by noon or so, I was hoofing it out of the Local Yokels, my treat well on its way to being done, and the water boiling for the spaghetti.
A few members of the cast are Italian, and even they compared it to sauces prepared by their mother or grandmother. Really made the effort worthwhile, for me, to see that many people get fed, and telling them, "Mangia! You a-too-skinny!"
Even got food over to all my homies on stage crew, even if I had to deliver it. What, what? Love you bastards. Realized, though, as positive of an experience as it was, retiring to the Yokels one day is by no means a cure for drama. Unless you're smart like the Wisened Tanner is, and you sit off to the side and do leather projects. Clever man.
I did get to pitch my idea for chicken pot pies for next year's food drop. Yes, the Lembas ones I've been discussing. There might be a party for Friday Night preparation to cook them on Saturday. It'd make things easier over there, at that.
Anyway, Whack it was bigger and better than it had been all year. I got to do Judge Fopner for the first time in awhile (Although Spanish Squire of Import really needs some confidence, as I learned while watching him try to bring people to the carpet of shame).
And, the first firing of the year happened. Special attention was given to Guy-With-a-Boner-for-Johnny-Depp, and his tendency to fulfill his role in the cast by spending time with his patron girlfriend attending shows and drinking was properly documented. Pink slip: issued. Rest of show: Not surprised, except that it took so long. But this bears note for Sunday.
Week Three: Sunday-
Dreams of one day retiring to work at the Yokels when my body can't take the street aren't so dreamy anymore. I know this, as I was itching to get the marinara sauce going again, and get the hell out of there to go to the Advice Booth. Between student days and Saturday of Week Three, it felt like an eternity since I had done it.
It still was not to be. At least, not sitting down at the booth.
Which, it isn't to say the village didn't get me out, they did.
It's just that this day was my hell day. At noon, when a patron thought I had a bit of a limp-wristed gesture, and they questioned my sexuality for it... that I went to show them my wedding ring, to put their mind at ease.
My wedding ring wasn't on my finger. BIG PROBLEM.
Thus began a mad dash to locate it. Sneaking backstage for calls to my wife at home to see if it fell off in my sleep were met with no answer (for about 90 minutes). Lost and found proved fruitless. I just warned the Gypsy Queen of my situation, so that my lack of focus would be explained.
While telling GQ, well... we overheard the guy who got fired on Saturday was supposedly on site on Sunday. This was my NEXT matter to look into, where I could. And, it had my literally running all over the site... on and offstage, for over an hour. Finally, it was determined to have been a false alarm... but not before I did the longest lap around the site geographically possible. I nearly passed out from doing it in my doublet in the mid-day heat (hadn't been drinking water since I lost my ring).
I nearly completely missed Judge Fopner, as well.
So, I had to rest. Got word from the wife that all was right with my ring. That was good news. Still spooked, though. Went back out on site, playing with patrons while trying to distribute as much of the spaghetti as possible. In the process, I had to throw the Wee Blonde Antichrist of the Heath while I was there, when the bird crew and Senor Falcone were putting up the avian residents, and she decided to throw whatever she could find at Adam Crack, while he was soaking his whips in fuel for his show. Why that kid's parents are always surprised when she gets into trouble while they're sitting under their awning is beyond me.
While waiting to collect dirty bowls at the falconer's heath, I came up with an idea... I was to be a messy eater. Smearing marinara sauce all over my face, I went around telling every patron I could see that "Pasketti is awesome!"
Somehow, they actually found this bit funny. Small miracle, that.
Anyway, we had spaghetti for two days straight, and there were still about five pounds of leftovers. Damn.
Whack it became a thing of chaos, but fun this day. Seeing Stretch spike the Wee Blonde Antichrist in the face for coming by to, I shit you not, try and bite the Slacking Wonder is beyond me. Also, seeing a kid launch a ball up into the air on onto the lap of a patron in a wheelchair was met with a quote of, "Well, it's not like they can feel anything from the waist down, anyway."
We're f***ed up people, sometimes. And I love that.
So, the show goes well, thus far. Most of the new blood are working out, and those that aren't... well, whatever. Stage Crew is finding people... don't ask me how. Good people, at that. They're still grossly undermanned, but getting by.
So my heart, it seems, is still very much in it. Even without the week-to-week updates.
Well, until I just posted that, of course.
Of course, due to time constraints, I've procrastinated on
Week One, Saturday:
Weather forecast said rain. They were dead wrong. None all day. In fact, it was scarcely even cloudy. Followed the new street group schedule to a "T", and made sure to look out for the new blood. See who was getting over, and who wasn't, and see who might need some further advice. Workshops, being what they are, still don't adequately prepare someone for a day at the Festival, so you don't want to leave someone thrown to the wolves.
Disturbing thing I hope won't be a trend... I've never seen a patron drink themselves until they couldn't walk or stand personally. I saw it twice on opening day. Times of economic woe make people turn to the bottle, this could be clear evidence of it. Oh, yeah, others were pretty blotto that paid to come through the gate. I had to Captain Peabody my first performer out of danger, too. She-Who-Tempts-Scotsmen, and El Pollo Caliente had a group of lushes roll up on them, and try to sucker them into reading erotic poetry. And by erotic poetry, I mean a quick story about a whore who desperately wanted to rent out her ass in vile ways. I was two steps ahead of the gals on this one, and led them out of there. Oh, then SWTS had a stalker from last season roll up on her, and I had to c-block that guy, as well.
All and all, a good day, though.
Week One, Sunday-
The day mother nature had mood swings. Only 2800 people or so came to the show. Weather went from cloudy, to rainy, to hail, to cloudy, to clear... and then cycled through that pattern again... twice. Really odd. Due to the weather, I didn't get to bring out the advice booth, or the balls. Instead, I made it a point to, on character in stage, and backstage when possible, try to get in the heads of the rookies who were struggling. Dark Grievance, in particular, is someone who perplexes me.
Hawked for a Clan Tynker show as the first storm passed. I really wish I could get time to hang with them, if they wouldn't mind my company. It never seems to be in the cards, though. Part of the curse of being a good street performer means you can't get all starry-eyed over travelling acts, though. Ah well.
The crowd was pretty friendly, in spite of the conditions, and I think Lord of the Mud realized I wasn't bullshitting him when I told him my uber-cloak really, really does the job of keeping you warm and dry.
Week Two, Saturday-
Already had my second ever Captain Peabody moment, having to wrest Miss Capulet away from two inebriated patrons who had claimed her for their escort. This took longer than expected, since she forgot what "Captain Peabody" means, and I had to say it twice. It's all good, of course. Got to do a LOT of advice booth, to make up for lost time from the first weekend.
The Medieval Baebes arrived this weekend, and I kept checking in on JT, who was fortunate enough to get the Lanky Italian Lad for backup for their visit. As such, this meant he didn't take me up on offers for breaks. There was a great moment in "D'oh!" from the heath on Saturday, but not from them. A member of the cast decided to pull out his cell phone, and Twitter all his pals on that how he was going to watch the Medieval Baebes. Hey, bad form for using a cell phone in character, right? Well he got caught. How? He forgot the director is on his Twitter list, and thus, she got notice of his plans.
Whoops.
Other than that, a good all around day.
Week Two, Sunday-
Another generous day from the crowd. Actually got a bit warm, and I pulled out my water jug to get the cast a bit wet. Went through four whole gallons in about 90 minutes. Not bad.
The real issue, I think, was WITKIU at the end of the day. We're trying to find it a better home, now that we have to finish close to the gate at the end of the day. Note: First person banned from Whack It in awhile. Overdue. Parent did not argue my logic, though. Kid still hasn't tried to re-enter after his temp-ban.
Oh yeah, worst disguise ever.
Week Two, Monday-
Finally, a day with a lot of patrons. Traffic was supposedly backed up for miles until mid-day. The street cast, or what was left of it, was given free roam, provided we were all ready to dive at the food lines once they started. I had picked King's Kitchen as my domain, but with four other people covering it... I opted to go out and set up the Advice Booth right next to the ticket lines. I was out there for about two hours, apparently. I had people chuckling, and hopefully the intended effect, to cheer them up while they waited to get last minute tickets, worked.
Other than that, watered everyone again. Made sure everybody who might not get a break was at least offered one. The quest for better WITKIU real estate went on, and outside the gate worked even less effectively on President's Day. Bequeathing grassy areas to a travelling performer, I maintain, is good karma. At least in this instance, it's someone I respect an admire, and not someone who demands acquiescence from locals. Made my decision to respect their need for the spot all the easier.
Student Day- Wednesday
High School Day was up first this year... and... it was shockingly tame. Really, things were so to plan, I still can't believe it. Although, I did learn about someone from the road who's well... an ass. If you've got free time on student day, for the record, don't go to another performer's show and start heckling them. Why? Because then the kids emulate you. For the remainder of the show, at that.
Ass.
Student Day- Thursday
Again, another student day that went oddly to plan. Well, other than the Repellant Seafood Section causing all sorts of drama at the village for the second day in a row. Stumbled right through that.
Oh yeah, and Ed the African White-Backed Vulture apparently thinks I bear a resemblance to the trainer who gives her chicken drumsticks. So Ed took a long, intimidating close look at, to put it delicately, my ass.
Twice.
My ass was not harmed, at least. The visiting children, upon threat upon my bum, were highly entertained. As was my longtime brother-from-another-mother, Senor Falcone.
Kids Days. Bah.
Third Weekend- Saturday
The first day of my annual food drop. And, for the first time, I asked to get a half day to join the village and actually cook the meal. Well, at least get it started. This year's menu? Marinara sauce and spaghetti.
Which, I've never had to cook for about, oh... 120. Spending a romantic night with Alicia peeling and slicing twenty bulbs of garlic (as romantic as that aroma is)as prep work made it a lot easier. But yeah, by noon or so, I was hoofing it out of the Local Yokels, my treat well on its way to being done, and the water boiling for the spaghetti.
A few members of the cast are Italian, and even they compared it to sauces prepared by their mother or grandmother. Really made the effort worthwhile, for me, to see that many people get fed, and telling them, "Mangia! You a-too-skinny!"
Even got food over to all my homies on stage crew, even if I had to deliver it. What, what? Love you bastards. Realized, though, as positive of an experience as it was, retiring to the Yokels one day is by no means a cure for drama. Unless you're smart like the Wisened Tanner is, and you sit off to the side and do leather projects. Clever man.
I did get to pitch my idea for chicken pot pies for next year's food drop. Yes, the Lembas ones I've been discussing. There might be a party for Friday Night preparation to cook them on Saturday. It'd make things easier over there, at that.
Anyway, Whack it was bigger and better than it had been all year. I got to do Judge Fopner for the first time in awhile (Although Spanish Squire of Import really needs some confidence, as I learned while watching him try to bring people to the carpet of shame).
And, the first firing of the year happened. Special attention was given to Guy-With-a-Boner-for-Johnny-Depp, and his tendency to fulfill his role in the cast by spending time with his patron girlfriend attending shows and drinking was properly documented. Pink slip: issued. Rest of show: Not surprised, except that it took so long. But this bears note for Sunday.
Week Three: Sunday-
Dreams of one day retiring to work at the Yokels when my body can't take the street aren't so dreamy anymore. I know this, as I was itching to get the marinara sauce going again, and get the hell out of there to go to the Advice Booth. Between student days and Saturday of Week Three, it felt like an eternity since I had done it.
It still was not to be. At least, not sitting down at the booth.
Which, it isn't to say the village didn't get me out, they did.
It's just that this day was my hell day. At noon, when a patron thought I had a bit of a limp-wristed gesture, and they questioned my sexuality for it... that I went to show them my wedding ring, to put their mind at ease.
My wedding ring wasn't on my finger. BIG PROBLEM.
Thus began a mad dash to locate it. Sneaking backstage for calls to my wife at home to see if it fell off in my sleep were met with no answer (for about 90 minutes). Lost and found proved fruitless. I just warned the Gypsy Queen of my situation, so that my lack of focus would be explained.
While telling GQ, well... we overheard the guy who got fired on Saturday was supposedly on site on Sunday. This was my NEXT matter to look into, where I could. And, it had my literally running all over the site... on and offstage, for over an hour. Finally, it was determined to have been a false alarm... but not before I did the longest lap around the site geographically possible. I nearly passed out from doing it in my doublet in the mid-day heat (hadn't been drinking water since I lost my ring).
I nearly completely missed Judge Fopner, as well.
So, I had to rest. Got word from the wife that all was right with my ring. That was good news. Still spooked, though. Went back out on site, playing with patrons while trying to distribute as much of the spaghetti as possible. In the process, I had to throw the Wee Blonde Antichrist of the Heath while I was there, when the bird crew and Senor Falcone were putting up the avian residents, and she decided to throw whatever she could find at Adam Crack, while he was soaking his whips in fuel for his show. Why that kid's parents are always surprised when she gets into trouble while they're sitting under their awning is beyond me.
While waiting to collect dirty bowls at the falconer's heath, I came up with an idea... I was to be a messy eater. Smearing marinara sauce all over my face, I went around telling every patron I could see that "Pasketti is awesome!"
Somehow, they actually found this bit funny. Small miracle, that.
Anyway, we had spaghetti for two days straight, and there were still about five pounds of leftovers. Damn.
Whack it became a thing of chaos, but fun this day. Seeing Stretch spike the Wee Blonde Antichrist in the face for coming by to, I shit you not, try and bite the Slacking Wonder is beyond me. Also, seeing a kid launch a ball up into the air on onto the lap of a patron in a wheelchair was met with a quote of, "Well, it's not like they can feel anything from the waist down, anyway."
We're f***ed up people, sometimes. And I love that.
So, the show goes well, thus far. Most of the new blood are working out, and those that aren't... well, whatever. Stage Crew is finding people... don't ask me how. Good people, at that. They're still grossly undermanned, but getting by.
So my heart, it seems, is still very much in it. Even without the week-to-week updates.
Well, until I just posted that, of course.