I figure that if I'm going to talk about Rennaisance Faires at my high school, it might be a SUPERLONG post. So I'll break it down.
This one will be the longest, since it involves some history -- my history.
As I made mention, we had a few things going on for the school Ren Faire if you were a sophomore -- We'd been studying the Renaissance in World History, this was a project that we did. You know, a kind-of recreation. We got to wear Renaissance-style clothing, eat a meal that was sorta time-period appropriate (dished up in the cafeteria), do a few period-type activities (I SUCK at archery. But the dancing was fun. We did some circle and Morris-dances.)
What I'm going to talk about involves the dramatic performance that each group in my AP World History class had to do (the kids in regular World History? Yeah, they didn't get to participate as much. Like only for their class period. We AP-ers? All day long, baby!).
My group chose to do "
The Miller's Tale" from Chaucer's
Canterbury Tales, which is incredibly ...
bawdy, in a word. I mean, there's cheating/adultry, lying, butt-kissing (in the most literal of definitions) ... it's crazy.
We had to split up to stage this, since there was a part for a narrator (my friend L), who sat on one side of the performing area (we were on a grassy part of the school's courtyard) with some friends who she acted as storyteller to, like Bret (a member of our group, and a dear friend of mine).
The rest of the action was on the other side of the "stage" ... where J (my HUGE crush of high school) played the bumbling carpenter, I played his slut of a wife, Alison, K played Nicholas, E was the servant, and K's twin sister K2 played the part of the OTHER dude who's in love with Alison --- and ends up being SO played.
Like I mentioned, the character Alison's ... not a good girl, if you get my drift. She doesn't love her older husband, falls in love with the astronomer-student who boards with them ... they have to figure out a way to get some privacy if you get my drift.
When the play opens, L is telling the story. I'm perched on a stool, exposing leg up to my hip toward K and acting innocent toward J. (Yeah, people who knew me at school for being the sweet, nice, perhaps-lesbian-since-I-didn't-date-at-the-age-of-10 girl ... I think they were taken aback. Or else JEALOUS because I had such nice legs. I'd like to think it's the second.)
Later in the play, once we've gotten my "husband," J, out of the picture, K and I were behind a couch (yes, we had a couch on the stage. We couldn't exactly ACT out the whole affair, you know. This was high school.) where we crouched behind it and threw off our clothes.
NOT ALL OUR CLOTHES. Like I said, this is high school. I had on a tank top and boxers (over my REAL underthings. K was supposed to have a tank and boxers on, too. (I didn't realize until we got the pictures back that he was just in the boxers. Ha! Call me oblivious!)
But, oh, the GASP of the audience as our clothes went flying over the couch. I wish I could have that recorded. It made my day. Especially since it's so FUN playing a naughty-type girl.
And I had to leave lipstick-marks over K's face. If only I hadn't been dating my first boyfriend, it would have been lots more fun.
Especially since after I kissed K's forehead and cheeks, he said, "You could do some more." (We hadn't practiced this part in rehersals.) So I left a few more on his cheeks ... since I was dating someone else, I didn't think it'd be quite right to totally make out with the quarterback. (Thinking back, though, maybe I should have. I might have had a really fun date to junior prom. And my popularity quotient would have skyrocketed. And he was SUCH a nice boy. And smart. Smarter than me [I'm jealous.].)
For the butt-kissing, we had one of those fake butts -- the kid people wear on Halloween, you know the kind, right? Well we had pairs of boxers that matched ours that we'd put on the butt. then we'd hang the butt out of the little window on the building on stage. Yeah ... maybe you had to see it for it to make any sense.
It was still pretty fun. Makes me a little nostalgic ... I was in much better shape then. And I actually did rather enjoy high school (Probably because I had a much more active social life. And I didn't have to deal with the A-crowd from my jr. high as much. ^_^).
BONUS STORIES:
Since we had to pay for lunch, I had stuck the $1.50 in my bra so that I wouldn't lose it. (My dress didn't have pockets) ... Later, I was chagrined to find that I had a perfect quarter-shaped hickey-thing on my chest. Oy.
One of my good friends, Damien, had dressed as a bit of a pirate for the stocks that were in the courtyard (We also had a stoning, with styrofoam rocks with people quoting Monty Python!) ... He had on an eye patch. Which he regretted until the sunburm wore off. Oh, that was hilarious!
(We all got such awful sunburns. My chest, where it wasn't covered by the dress, ended up peeling and itching so badly. Owww.)
EXTRA-HUMILIATING BONUS STORY:
This story is easily one of the most embarassing things that has ever happened to me.
During one of the rehersals for our play, my group was in the little theater to practice. L, K2, E, and Bret were over sitting in the audience seats, going over their lines as we ran through the piece. K and I were sitting on the couch. We had said our lines and were just chatting until we had to talk again. J was pacing the stage, going over his parts and following stage directions.
Then, he turns toward us, sitting in front of him, a level lower (since he was on the stage, you know and we were on the floor of the theater, on the couch which faced the stage, not the audience), and says, "Come on, you two! You're supposed to be ripping off your clothes!"
-- Now, this was not a dress rehersal. We were in our real-people clothes. I was in a shirt and jeans. My shirt, I remember clearly (and this will prove important in just a second), was my silver-colored fave-velvet snap-up shirt. It's not like we were really going to strip down to our skivvies just in PRACTICE. I was a rather modest girl back then.
And, since I'm a punk, I respond to J (because he and I were friends, regardless of my HUMONGOUS and PITIFUL adoration of him) with, "What, you think I should do THIS??"
And I pulled at the top of my shirt. It's a snap-up. Not buttons. SNAPS.
I thought that it'd go "snap. snap" and just show a little cleavage. ...
No. It goes "snapsnapsnapsnapsnapsnap!!!!!!!!" And suddenly I'm there with my shirt open.
Thanks be that I had very modest (yet pretty!) bras. Ones that concealed well.
One split second while K, J and I are all FROZEN IN SHOCK goes by, then I sweep my shirt closed, snapping it closed with superhuman speed and turning to each flabberghasted male asking"Youdidntseeanythingright??" ... as Bret, who's obviously caught sight of J's gaping expression, calls out, "What just happened?"
"You don't want to know." was my glowering reply.
"I really don't want to know." He agreed, eyeing my scarlet face. (This is yet another reason why I love my Bret-bro. Because he speaks my language, bless him.)
Yes, I had totally and completely accidentally FLASHED MY BRA-CLAD CHEST to the boy that I was PINING for and the WONDERFUL quarterback/valedictorian (well, he was a co-valedictorian. There was a four-way tie. I wasn't one of them. Not even the Salutitorian. Just top ten. Thank goodness).
Yes, something like this seems totally unreal. But, no, it happens in real life. If you're me.
I managed to survive.
And I even wore that shirt again. But only with my Ren Faire tanktop underneath.
I learned a very valuable lesson.
And, since they still were my friends, I think we're okay.
I still blush to think about it, though.
If the story doesn't make a lot of sense, I can tell it to you IRL. If we're someplace we won't be too overheard. I don't think that the YW should know that I accidentally flashed two boys my bra in high school. It's just not quite a good example.
Just a hilarious example of what not to do. *tries to keep a straight face*
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