Renaissance Festival = Redneck Disneyland

As those of you who have children know, Valentine's Day can still be about intimate, candlelit dinners and rose-petal covered beds....but probably due to lack of a sitter or lack of energy or a combination of both, those kinds of evenings are on hold for a few years. In reality, Valentine's Day for many parents has become more about restaurants where tickets are traded for overpriced crap, and if you're really lucky, Redbox on the way home. This year, my husband decided to spice it up a bit, take advantage of the gorgeous, sunny 70-degree temperatures, and take me and our girls to Arizona Renaissance Festival. Excellent decision.

For the same reason I love to watch Rock of Love and C.O.P.S. and hang out at JFK International Airport, the Festival did not disappoint; finest specimen of people-watching I've had in years. I had not been to a renaissance festival since I was a little girl, so for all intensive purposes this was completely new to me. And it was glorious; at this place, you see it all. This truly is a redneck Disneyland and we had front row seats. (It's okay; I have kin folk scattered all throughout the South and Southeast, so I can get away with calling people rednecks.)

You know how at Halloween, people suddenly think it's okay to put on a too-small whorish outfit and walk around in public like it's no big thing? Well, this was the same, except it was daytime and in February. Oh, and there was of course the overall medieval theme and an abundance of horrible British accents and armpit hair (maidens included).

Today, I saw more back fat oozing out through corset strings than anyone should ever see. (Not that everyone needs to be thin, but come on people: know your wardrobe limits.) I saw middle-aged, mullet-sporting rednecks dressed up in elaborate, genuine pirate costumes except for the "I killed Edward" t-shirt. I saw a royal knight boisterously announcing to his friends that his kid's loose tooth was now firmly lodged into a turkey leg. I saw a fairy who certainly was under the influence of some sort of special dust. I saw teens effortlessly pulling off a style combination of jester and goth. I saw a young, drunken maiden puking in a trash can. I saw a Henry VIII look-a-like eating Steak-on-a-Stick while pushing a Graco stroller with a beer in the stroller's cup holder.

These people take this very seriously! In fact, I learned that many of them do this for a living and travel around the country with these festivals, much like circus folk do. This is an entire subculture I knew nothing of. I guess, for me, what was so amusing besides the over the top costumes was all the hilarious contradictions. For people so intent on being historically accurate, why do they somehow think that excessive tattoos and body piercings and a pack of smokes tucked into your cleavage fits into the historical motif?

So, after the initial culture shock wore off, I really did start to have a great time. I mean, the weather was gorgeous, they did serve beer and wine, and my usually hard-to-please children were having a blast. As far as they knew, this place was no different than Disneyland. There was face painting, jugglers, and music. There are rides to ride, ice cream and candy to eat, $20 princess hats to buy, animals to pet, and public urination to witness. Oh, wait...nevermind. And when our kids are having a good time, so are we. It was truly a great day.

But then, after extensive lemonades and milkshakes, my daughters, of course, had to use "The Privies". As I was desperately trying to get in and out of there without either of them touching anything, I glanced up to see something that shocked even me. (And really, after seeing all 658 episodes of HBO's Real Sex and selling sex toys, I thought I'd seen it all.) There in the Privies was a woman who, for the most part, was wearing the standard ladies outfit for this event: long flowing hoop skirt, fishnets, combat boots, and corset. However, in lieu of the typical white blouse showing over the corset, she wore.....(wait for it)...a chain mail bra. I'm not kidding. She stood there, bad ass as she wanted to be, while the rest of us in the restroom stared at her wondering how in the hell her nipples didn't get pinched off or at least chafed to death while wearing metal mesh across her tits. Now, luckily, she was a taller broad and my daughters are still under four feet tall, so they didn't notice her. There would've been an incredibly awkward silence after one of my girls loudly asked me why that lady's boobies are in cages.

We left the Privies without further incident and I ran to my husband anxious to tell him what I had just seen. I was sure he would be shocked and entertained by my unbelievable find. However, he had been to this festival numerous times before, and he was not shocked at all. He simply looked at me, smiled, and said, "Why do you think I brought you here? Happy Valentine's Day."