The Magic of Beer

Here’s what I remember of the Renaissance Festival: It was magic.

Now, considering the combination of a giant turkey leg, a jousting match, a fire eater, an actual magician, talking to random street characters and consuming three beers… I’m sure that really all I needed was the three beers to make the above statement.

I had remained relatively sober all weekend – partially because I thought people might need my help driving (and I’m such an upstanding citizen), and partially because I was on call and hoping something would happen that would require my considerable lack of forensic expertise. The second didn’t happen, although I was a fantastic driver both Friday and Sunday nights. (Saturday was spent at home without alcohol as well.)

So, considering that I don’t drink all that often and am by nature a lightweight… well, three beers and I was way more drunk than I had any right to be. It was kind of surprising how bad it got so quickly.

Man, I had such a good time.

And Beth, thank you for not letting me fall over my own feet and take a header into the wooden benches. You’re a peach.

Although, this does make one wonder if the Ren Fest would have been just as entertaining without alcohol. I seem to think not.

The only disappointment is that we never ran into the schizophrenic narcoleptic. Maybe she had fallen asleep somewhere.

If I can get the Andersons to email me pictures, I might let you see them if they’re not too embarrassing. I’m pretty sure there’s a good one of me offering some of my beer to a stone pig. (Huzzah, Beer!)

Yeah, you read that right.

End Blog.