The State Fair and The Ren-Fest Can Be Friends

I am so uncomfortable with audience participation that I won’t clap along at concerts. The musical Cats nearly ruined all theatre experiences for me when the actors slithered into the audience, purring as they rubbed up against our legs and leaping across the backs of our chairs. So I feel more than awkward wandering through the colorful veneers of a European village in the Middle Ages among wenches, minstrels, snake charmers, and royalty (who occasionally sport cell phones and Nikes). But this weekend I succumbed to the call of the peddlers and Tarot readers and we headed to Shakopee.

There are three kinds of people who live in Minnesota. We have State Fair People, Renaissance Festival People, and People Who Dislike Both The Fair and The Fest. I am the former, and my friend K is definitely of the Ren-Fest tribe. Going to the Festival with K is to experience the festivities as they are meant to be experienced. She revels in the horrid fake accents and inaccurate costumes of the players. She dresses in her finest Medieval fare with two animal tails swishing from her hips as she walks proudly through the crowds with her wine-filled stein.

State Fair People are “Look at that!” folks. Renaissance Festival People are “Look at me!” folks.

Yesterday, T started talking about what he would need to pull together a monk costume.  "There were no monks at the Renaissance Festival," he lamented.  Ren-Fest Fever is catchier than bed bugs.  It must be something they add to the wine.