John McLoone

I was in a different world altogether on Saturday.

I saw and experienced things I’ve never seen in more than six decades on this planet.

It was somewhere I never intended to be. We were invited to a renaissance festival by our favorite 3-year-old. I took her first call, and told her “Old Grandpa,” as she refers to me, probably might not make the trip, but I was sure grandma would be interested.

I had studied all aspects of a possible trip to this event. It would be crowded. It would be hot. Those are actually the only two aspects I got through. Admittedly, I stopped making my list of pros and cons after two cons.

Grandma, in her call, confirmed for the both of us.

The highlight of the day obviously is that any day we get to see our grandkids is going to be the best day of that week.

However, three hours into this adventure, I was stuck in a throng, body to body, of people pretending they existed in a long gone era. Actually, there seemed to be several eras. It was kind of a mix between Middle Earth, Medieval times and whatever outfit could be thrown together. It would have been pretty cool to see if it was pretty cool outside. But with thousands of people shoulder to shoulder and some of them in wool, body armor and one in some kind of bear suit, coupled with temperature close to 90, and it really did probably give an accurate feel – or smell – of life 900 years ago.

At one point, I got unattached from our group. It’s difficult to get your bearings when every 10^th building is the same place, hawking everything from dishes of bacon (delicious!) to jewelry, turkey drumsticks and the famous Medieval delicacies of Ellsworth cheese curds and onion rings. It was overwhelming trying to fight my way through the throng of body odor, and I was forced to pause for a tankard of ale. Actually, it was a plastic cup. I inquired about purchasing a tankard to mark the day, but it cost $72, so a plastic cup it was.

It probably took me a couple plastic tankards to reunite with my group. They found me. I heard my wife call my name, and I froze in the crowd, backing up traffic around me, until she fetched me and guided me to safety.

I do admire everything these folks put into their rather expensive hobby, especially since mine is sitting in my chair reading. Now, I had the opportunity to experience something. And experience, I did. I saw ogres. I saw countless fairies. I saw jousters and jesters. There were some cool fire jugglers. However, there was an event I’ll remember most – aside from being with my grandkids before I lost my way. I was actually run over by Santa Claus in a motorized scooter. It wasn’t your typical St. Nick, though. This one had on a bird head.

That was the kind of day it was.