I went
medieval this weekend.
My girlfriend is a member of the Society for Creative Anachronism, and last summer took me to the Pennsic Wars. I had a lot of fun, but missed all the battles because they took place midweek and summer is the busy time of year in the office. No vacations allowed. Period. But this weekend was The Blackstone Raids a much smaller event than Pennsic, but that would hardly be difficult as Pennsic can top 15,000. Because the battles were on Saturday, I could watch. Maybe find out.
And Nancy wanted me to drive. That led to another surprise, Stasi and Ogre, were getting married. Probably none of you know Stasi and Ogre, as I barely know them, but I know them well enough to entrust with getting the Mother of the Bride to the event for the wedding. Clearly they have never seen me drive a set of curves. I looked at the map, and saw what looked like a bunch of twisty bits, and began salivating. My SVT Focus was built for such roads. Tire pressures? Check! Oil level? Check! Wheelbase? Check! We were ready to roll.
Unfortunately the mother of the bride is a self-confessed 'nervous nellie' so it would be best if she slept through the twisty bits. Or at least I should drive them at night so she can't see the edge of the cliff.
Still, it was cool. The Great Dark Horde (Nancy's House) had a brother cater the event, so for $20 I got fed four tasty squares. There was much laughter and debauchery. And I got to watch the warriors suiting up and preparing for battle. I had the camera of one of them, a small woman with a spear, desperate for pictures she could show her co-workers who don't believe she could go out there and fight.
Well, she does. I thought I had a good picture of her spearing an Atlantean fighter. Unfortunately her camera let us down so she will continue to endure the catcalls from her fellow workers. If she gets downsized, perhaps she can bring her halberd to work and level a couple of them. It was a bridge battle, a narrow front for a few hundred fighters. It also proved Clausewitz's maxim that "no plan survives contact with the enemy." It seemed like you wanted the sheildmen to get a bit of room for a charge then they would occupy the defenders so the spears would get a good shot at them. I also saw how demoralizing it can be when you're waiting in line to fight and have a ballista bolt clang off your shield, particularly when embossed with labels saying, "Pardon me, but you are so dead."
Actually, it looked like fun. In fact, it looked like a lot of fun. I wonder how much it would cost to put together a decent suit of armor? Probably too much in the short run, but even an old guy like me saw how I could have a good time in there, and get really, really tired, really really quickly. In a way, fighting is a lot like ice hockey. You go hard for a very short shift, are killed and stumble your way back to resurrection to start all over again.
Still we left the field early as we had a wedding to prepare for. I took a nap to make up for lost sleep, but was soon ordered to shower quickly and clear out as our room (which Nancy and I shared with the aforementioned Mother of the Bride) was needed for secret female pre-nuptial rituals, to which no man is expected or wants to understand. The Brides family slid in, turned from mundane to medieval, while I consoled myself sipping whiskey with a few of the brothers. Then we went down to the chapel, the hitching was performed in a quick and surprisingly appropriate ceremony, performed by another Horde brother (who got herself licensed as pastor in West Virginia just for the ceremony. Then we headed back for music, cake and drunken debauchery. All in all a fine time was had by all.
And so ended my second SCA event, much as the first, tired as hell from too much fun and too little sleep, driving home with sleeping women in my car, and generally happy. It was a good time. And I'm beginning to think I'd look good in armor.