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After two people walk by on stilts, I lean over to Nina, “Where are the king and queen?”
“Probably at the end of the parade.”
Men walk by wearing horses as a costume, and some drunk ladies, dressed like Nina, skip by. One man, dressed as a Renaissance zombie catches my eye.
“I’m not sure what he’s doing in there.” Nina gives me a puzzled look.
Then come the knights who ride by on actual horses, a lady in a huge purple dress is with them, followed by another woman yelling at the top of her lungs, “God save the queen.”
We walk for a little while, past a candle shop, and one of those places you can make wax hands.
“Oh look, a sword swallower.” I steer Nina toward him.
“I can’t handle that,” she makes a vomiting face, “it makes me gag just thinking about it.”
“You’ll be fine,” I shake my head and grab her hand, pulling her to sit in front of the sword-swallowing man. The swords look incredibly long, and he looks incredibly small. This is either going to be great or a total disaster.
The show starts with him giving a disclaimer about dying, and I close my eyes. Nina squeezes my hand, and I find myself watching her. She really is beautiful and so in her element here. It’s like she was made for this time in history.
Gasping, she looks up at me, catching me watching her.
“You’re the wimp, you’re not even watching it.”
“Nope.” I grin and continue to gaze at her as she looks back at the stage.
“Look, Travis,” she exclaims, and I look forward just in time to see a long sword disappear down the man’s throat without a hitch. So, no disaster, after all.
After leaving the sword swallowing show, we walk toward the jousting arena. There’s a man dressed as a bird yelling that it starts soon. Looking around, I realize I’m one of the few people not wearing a costume. I might look out of place, but there is no way I would wear some of these outfits.
I’m totally enjoying being with Nina, but this is not my scene. The men running around in cosplay are too much, and everywhere I look, boobs are coming out of women’s dresses. That part isn’t too bad, but it’s women of all ages. In fact, I just heard a kid say, “wait up, Grandma,” and when he caught up with her, her bosoms were hanging out. Wrinkly old lady tits are just something a man can never unsee.
A chick dressed as a goat approaches us. At least, I think she’s a goat, might be a donkey. “Fancy some milk from my teat?” she asks in a very serious voice.
Nina giggles and pushes me toward the woman. She’s holding a jug of milk, and I throw up in my mouth a little.
“No, no, thank you,” I manage to get out.
Nina points to a little girl dressed in a Renaissance dress, “Look at how cute she is. She’s passing out flowers, do you think she works her?”
I don’t respond because I’m not really sure. One would think they couldn’t employee children, but this place is unlike anything I’ve experienced before.
The little girl sees her watching and walks over to her. “Here’s a flower, mistress. I’m Anna. We need some more people for the Maypole dance.” She bats her eyes and smiles up at Nina.
“Oh, I don’t know how to do that.” Nina looks to me and I shrug.
“It’s not difficult, mistress, I will teach you,” Anna says.
“Well, how can I say no to that?” Nina smiles at me and allows Anna to lead her to where several men and women are gathering around a large pole with different colored ribbons. There is seriously every color: purple, green, yellow, orange. It makes a really pretty effect as they hang from the pole.
One lady says the point of the dance is to wind the ribbon all the way to the bottom. I can’t help but think that’s going to take forever. The dance starts, and a woman walks by playing some sort of instrument. The people move out from the maypole and start to dance in circles, moving around each other as they hold on to the ribbons. The ones dressed up yell with each circle and then cheer. A group of them gather nearby to sing along with the lady playing the instrument.
It only takes Nina a couple turns before she’s got it down. I watch in awe as she circles around skipping and throwing her head back with laughter.
She’s so carefree, and it makes something in my chest tighten. When she’s had her fill of dancing, she walks back over to me, beads of sweat on her forehead.
“Come on, let’s go watch the jousting,” she says. She’s like a kid in a candy store. Running up to another tent, she grabs two more meads. I’m still working on my first, which I display to her, so she shrugs and says, “More for me.”
“I guess you haven’t spotted the asshole here?”
