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acroyear...which means Every Weekend Of Faire From Here On Out Will Rock!
'cause it really wasn't all that bad in spite of, well, everything.
Saturday, year-high attendance (20,500. well short of the record of Scottish Saturday 2000, but far better than last weekend's dismal days), yet people weren't a stress.
stuff was...This was a serious bad prop day.
forgot stuff and had to go back to the car twice (i don't care how nice it is on site, running back to your car in the sahara of a parking lot we have sucks!). lost the little clippy thing that hooks my whistle-quiver to my belt.
Then the big one -- on my way to the globe, the back-basket broke. The strap that holds it onto my left shoulder gave through the rivets, *smash*, down she goes. Nothing seems broken yet, so i painfully drag it on my left shoulder (where it keeps hitting my dagger and slamming that into my thigh) and get to the globe. I wanted a beer then, but lines were too long, so water it was.
After 12th Night, I painfully drag it through to boar's head for the set, then to bullseye to store it away.
In my break, I go to Potomac Leather to get a small belt-strap to hold the whistles to my belt. An hour later, just before I head back to do my 430 set, the whistles drop (nothing broken, but most are thick plastic or metal). turns out to have had a broken button I didn't catch before. Well, can't do anything but carry 'em by hand for now...
I found out half-way through our last set that the fall clobbered 2 of my 3 clay tavern pipes. Both cracked clear through the middle...and I need 2 of them to do the show. So I first go to scream away from patrons in the boar's head fridge, but a guy was in there changing a keg, so I just laughed.
Then I went to first aid, as they were extremely willing to patch one of them up with medical tape, seeing as how 1) it wasn't a person they were dealing with for a change (it was a busy day for them, too), and 2) that meant they didn't have to file any paperwork on it. All things in perspective, I guess, but my bad prop day wasn't over yet.
Stress-monster ("Cranky Boy!") finally emerges thanks to losing (or so I originally thought) 2 of my pirate bandanas. It was such a stress-day, I really would have had no idea when I put them down and didn't pick them up.
Turns out they were in cyd's basket the whole time, and all was well regarding that, so slowly I started to piece together my sanity (motto of the weekend: Insanity is a process. Don't rush it. Thanks, DNA).
Drag the crap back to the costume house (to heck with rat-pucking, as I would have lost my rat and broken my stick knowing how the stuff day was going so far). Leave my stick behind, just walk to pub sing with the belaying pin and the mug and that's that...oh, and I dropped the belaying pin on the concrete, so it now has a bruise on it...
Final bad prop-thing was that Potomac didn't have any replacement buttons, and didn't have any alternate mugstraps in black to replace mine with, so he's going to have to do it by hand during the week and I won't see it 'til next week.
However, Cyd did one last check with info-booth friendlys and sure enough, they had found the original clip
so sunday could go with out stress...no?
No. Sunday had 2 stressy-things, one early one late.
Early: Wardrobe Malfunction!!!!
Found out in the car that my pants had not one but three holes in them in just the wrong spots. Not wanting a $550,000 fine from our Sherriff's tax laws and the Revel Grove Communications Commission (yeah, we used that as a bit), I switch to my pants of saturday. Not quite as snazzy, but functional and certainly still piratey.
Late: near-panic as we can't find Cyd's pucking sticks. turned out she didn't know how long a certain massive hit on a pyrates royale show was going to take and took them with her in case we went pucking anyways. At 525pm, needing to go to pub sing, we can't find them at the costume house. Fortunately they were left at the post-hit photo-op at pyrate camp and were disguised as being part of the fence. All was well.
So it was an odd weekend, but a different one as I realized by the end of saturday (where stress-puppy was so sick of it all he couldn't eat or drink at dinner that night) that people were never the problem. Some days things go well, or would have if it hadn't been for "that patron in the 3rd row" or "those kids who did ..." or whatever.
Saturday was different. It was just...stuff...and at every point where it should have gotten to me, just realizing it was a great day for people just kept taking a little bit of the pains away. Rather than going into Sunday still feeling the crapola of the previous day, ground-hog day rules kicked in and the day was just utterly different in every way, and even made saturday seem not so bad in the end.
So, no, I wouldn't want to repeat Saturday ever again...but I wouldn't want to take it back either. Too many lessons learned that I would rather not learn again...
...'cause the people of Faire just made the whole weekend worth all of the pain.
Saturday, the friendliness and quick-response time of the first aid people to help keep my set going. Blueeowyn helping through that stress-set while I tried to figure out how to manage it all. Regan being the most incredible and surprising sight for sore eyes (one of the few times that phrase has had a literal meaning) when I *really* needed one. Pyrates from two faires for having something else to talk about so I didn't dwell on all the crap. The fantastic cast of 12th Night for keeping my half-sleeping mind up on the balcony smirking through an hour of rest and lunch. Cyd's friends for not going "why is she married to this jerk?". A pub sing of not entirely stupid people (though we certainly had a few). And all the stuff that happened before the stuff happened, like actually seeing AFR invaders and giving a smartly-dressed![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tinuvien the bag of pooh! Plus giving some the good news that CRF was a *go*! for us.
And sunday. Pyrates making silly at us being silly, particularly when "swing a cat" (and cyd's 3 rats) added to the humor of BOTH pirate groups' morning sets. Smooth sets without bad incident and with good audiences (more so at A than Boar's Head. Not sure I really liked that from a performers perspective). Finally getting to do Old MacDonald at pub sing. Entertaining my mother with the sillyness that I'm a part of. Wolgemut's pipe-less set (I'm not sure the white hart is right for that...works in gatehouse and boardwalk, but not there).
And Butterflies.
And 1 kid who so totally made sunday the funniest day I've ever had (and it would have been even without the pyrate hit):
On occasion I do a silly street-bit by immitating the hawkers. You know, those that yell out what they're selling like "Fresh Fish And Chips!" and "Pretzels!" and "Try My Nuts!" and all that.
So I yell out what I have to offer. Last week was "Drunken Scotsman! Who needs a Drunken Scotsman!"
This week my service was "wandering around looking like an idiot! Who needs someone to walk around and look like an idiot?!".
After 2 or 3 of these, a kid walking with his family's caravan (sister was in a large stroller) catches on and goes "AH! JUST LIKE MY DAD!".
The boy's mother will remember that for a long time to come.
and so will I.
'cause it really wasn't all that bad in spite of, well, everything.
Saturday, year-high attendance (20,500. well short of the record of Scottish Saturday 2000, but far better than last weekend's dismal days), yet people weren't a stress.
stuff was...This was a serious bad prop day.
forgot stuff and had to go back to the car twice (i don't care how nice it is on site, running back to your car in the sahara of a parking lot we have sucks!). lost the little clippy thing that hooks my whistle-quiver to my belt.
Then the big one -- on my way to the globe, the back-basket broke. The strap that holds it onto my left shoulder gave through the rivets, *smash*, down she goes. Nothing seems broken yet, so i painfully drag it on my left shoulder (where it keeps hitting my dagger and slamming that into my thigh) and get to the globe. I wanted a beer then, but lines were too long, so water it was.
After 12th Night, I painfully drag it through to boar's head for the set, then to bullseye to store it away.
In my break, I go to Potomac Leather to get a small belt-strap to hold the whistles to my belt. An hour later, just before I head back to do my 430 set, the whistles drop (nothing broken, but most are thick plastic or metal). turns out to have had a broken button I didn't catch before. Well, can't do anything but carry 'em by hand for now...
I found out half-way through our last set that the fall clobbered 2 of my 3 clay tavern pipes. Both cracked clear through the middle...and I need 2 of them to do the show. So I first go to scream away from patrons in the boar's head fridge, but a guy was in there changing a keg, so I just laughed.
Then I went to first aid, as they were extremely willing to patch one of them up with medical tape, seeing as how 1) it wasn't a person they were dealing with for a change (it was a busy day for them, too), and 2) that meant they didn't have to file any paperwork on it. All things in perspective, I guess, but my bad prop day wasn't over yet.
Stress-monster ("Cranky Boy!") finally emerges thanks to losing (or so I originally thought) 2 of my pirate bandanas. It was such a stress-day, I really would have had no idea when I put them down and didn't pick them up.
Turns out they were in cyd's basket the whole time, and all was well regarding that, so slowly I started to piece together my sanity (motto of the weekend: Insanity is a process. Don't rush it. Thanks, DNA).
Drag the crap back to the costume house (to heck with rat-pucking, as I would have lost my rat and broken my stick knowing how the stuff day was going so far). Leave my stick behind, just walk to pub sing with the belaying pin and the mug and that's that...oh, and I dropped the belaying pin on the concrete, so it now has a bruise on it...
Final bad prop-thing was that Potomac didn't have any replacement buttons, and didn't have any alternate mugstraps in black to replace mine with, so he's going to have to do it by hand during the week and I won't see it 'til next week.
However, Cyd did one last check with info-booth friendlys and sure enough, they had found the original clip
so sunday could go with out stress...no?
No. Sunday had 2 stressy-things, one early one late.
Early: Wardrobe Malfunction!!!!
Found out in the car that my pants had not one but three holes in them in just the wrong spots. Not wanting a $550,000 fine from our Sherriff's tax laws and the Revel Grove Communications Commission (yeah, we used that as a bit), I switch to my pants of saturday. Not quite as snazzy, but functional and certainly still piratey.
Late: near-panic as we can't find Cyd's pucking sticks. turned out she didn't know how long a certain massive hit on a pyrates royale show was going to take and took them with her in case we went pucking anyways. At 525pm, needing to go to pub sing, we can't find them at the costume house. Fortunately they were left at the post-hit photo-op at pyrate camp and were disguised as being part of the fence. All was well.
So it was an odd weekend, but a different one as I realized by the end of saturday (where stress-puppy was so sick of it all he couldn't eat or drink at dinner that night) that people were never the problem. Some days things go well, or would have if it hadn't been for "that patron in the 3rd row" or "those kids who did ..." or whatever.
Saturday was different. It was just...stuff...and at every point where it should have gotten to me, just realizing it was a great day for people just kept taking a little bit of the pains away. Rather than going into Sunday still feeling the crapola of the previous day, ground-hog day rules kicked in and the day was just utterly different in every way, and even made saturday seem not so bad in the end.
So, no, I wouldn't want to repeat Saturday ever again...but I wouldn't want to take it back either. Too many lessons learned that I would rather not learn again...
...'cause the people of Faire just made the whole weekend worth all of the pain.
Saturday, the friendliness and quick-response time of the first aid people to help keep my set going. Blueeowyn helping through that stress-set while I tried to figure out how to manage it all. Regan being the most incredible and surprising sight for sore eyes (one of the few times that phrase has had a literal meaning) when I *really* needed one. Pyrates from two faires for having something else to talk about so I didn't dwell on all the crap. The fantastic cast of 12th Night for keeping my half-sleeping mind up on the balcony smirking through an hour of rest and lunch. Cyd's friends for not going "why is she married to this jerk?". A pub sing of not entirely stupid people (though we certainly had a few). And all the stuff that happened before the stuff happened, like actually seeing AFR invaders and giving a smartly-dressed
tinuvien the bag of pooh! Plus giving some the good news that CRF was a *go*! for us.And sunday. Pyrates making silly at us being silly, particularly when "swing a cat" (and cyd's 3 rats) added to the humor of BOTH pirate groups' morning sets. Smooth sets without bad incident and with good audiences (more so at A than Boar's Head. Not sure I really liked that from a performers perspective). Finally getting to do Old MacDonald at pub sing. Entertaining my mother with the sillyness that I'm a part of. Wolgemut's pipe-less set (I'm not sure the white hart is right for that...works in gatehouse and boardwalk, but not there).
And Butterflies.
And 1 kid who so totally made sunday the funniest day I've ever had (and it would have been even without the pyrate hit):
On occasion I do a silly street-bit by immitating the hawkers. You know, those that yell out what they're selling like "Fresh Fish And Chips!" and "Pretzels!" and "Try My Nuts!" and all that.
So I yell out what I have to offer. Last week was "Drunken Scotsman! Who needs a Drunken Scotsman!"
This week my service was "wandering around looking like an idiot! Who needs someone to walk around and look like an idiot?!".
After 2 or 3 of these, a kid walking with his family's caravan (sister was in a large stroller) catches on and goes "AH! JUST LIKE MY DAD!".
The boy's mother will remember that for a long time to come.
and so will I.
