When I was 16, I got my first job at the Virginia Renaissance Faire, working in the kitchens. It didn't take me long to figure out that I didn't like food service work (that's a different story), so the next year I worked as a Reveler- ie, unpaid local 'color.' We, the Revelers, were supposed to play the peasantry of the faire. Most of it wasn't bad: we got to interact with the locals, wash clothes in the river (and make as much mess and fuss as we wanted), and had a lot of time that was unsupervised with the injunction to go interact with people. Without a doubt, though, my favorite activity was the Maypole Dance.
Twice a day, we got to go unwind the ribbons from the Maypole and teach patrons how to do maypole dances. I would occasionally be required to play the music on a recorder, if the musicians were late, but for the most part, I got to dance, weave ribbons, figure out the logistics of weaving and unweaving ribbons and bodies, and encourage people to join in. When it comes to dance, my antisocial tendencies vanish, so I had an absolute ball (pun intended).
Unfortunately for me, the leader of our little guild had her eye on a different talent of mine. Somehow she figured out that, when I'm really well and truly angry, I get icy calm and absolutely vicious with my words, without ever descending into actual swearing. I can't really give examples, though, because every time it's happened (which is only about 4 or 5 times in my life), I am so angry that I have no idea what I've actually said, only that the desired effect has been achieved. Regardless, somehow she figured this out, and decided to use it to her advantage.
One of the Revelers- a male who was probably about my age or so- had a bad habit of showing up whenever he felt like it, dropping his stuff off at our camp, and then wandering off to flirt with various women instead of doing the (few) things that we actually had scheduled and were required to do. Apparently, he was young enough and pretty enough that none of the other Revelers ever managed to tell him off for it without succumbing to a charming smile and well-placed compliment. I'm not one to be swayed by a pretty face, but I never figured it was my business, so I generally avoided him.
On the very last day of Faire, the guy- we'll call him Phillip- had not shown up by the time the last dance rolled around. It was roughly 3pm, and I was greatly looking forward to one last dance around the Maypole. I had made sure to take camp duty (making sure no one took our stuff) the weekend before so I wouldn't have to miss out on the last weekend of dances, and had just started packing up my stuff to head off when the Headmistress came up and told me that I wouldn't be going. Feeling extremely put out, I asked why not. She didn't even bother lying- she looked me straight in the eye and said that Phillip had finally called to say he was on his way, and she wanted me to 'put him in his place.'
Now, why she waited until the last day to do this, I do not know. Maybe because it was a surefire way to make me mad, maybe because it was a last-ditch effort to show him the error of his ways, I don't know. But man, I was angry. I tried pointing out that I'd done my share of camp duty, that everyone in Faire knew how much I loved the Maypole Dance, that I was supposed to move away the next year, so I'd never have a chance to do it again... EVER... to no avail. She told me to sit and mind camp, and when Phillip came in, to let him know his behavior was unappreciated.
So I sat. And stewed. I could hear the music for the dances from camp. I could hear the other Revelers calling out the steps . I could hear the laughter and fun, and the longer I waited, the angrier I got. Sure enough, about halfway through the dances, Phillip comes swaggering up to camp, drops his stuff, and tells me he's going to head over and join in the fun.
To this day, I have no idea what I said. All I remember is saying, "No, actually, you're not going to," and ordering him to sit down while I detailed exactly why he would not only be not going to the dance, but also sitting down, shutting up, and not saying a word unless I asked him a direct question, which would only be answered with a yes or no. I don't even remember hearing the end of the dance- all I recall is sitting in absolute silence across the fire from Phillip and glaring at him, where he sat, cowed, on a log, until everyone came back. I gave the Headmistress a deathglare, asked if I could be excused, and walked away to cool off.
I still get a little ticked off when I think about it, because, basically, I was denied something that I really wanted simply because no one else had the spine to do what needed done. I never have danced another Maypole Dance in the 17 years since then, and only once, many years later, did I bother going back to the Virginia Faire to see what had become of it. I'm not even sure what ever happened to Phillip, as I think he sat on that log in camp for the rest of the day, and I made no effort to reopen communication with him. The only good thing that came out of the whole experience was that it's easier for me to see when I'm being used, and can usually cut it off before it gets to the point of missing out on the things I really want to do. Or at least... I try. Cheers!
Twice a day, we got to go unwind the ribbons from the Maypole and teach patrons how to do maypole dances. I would occasionally be required to play the music on a recorder, if the musicians were late, but for the most part, I got to dance, weave ribbons, figure out the logistics of weaving and unweaving ribbons and bodies, and encourage people to join in. When it comes to dance, my antisocial tendencies vanish, so I had an absolute ball (pun intended).
Unfortunately for me, the leader of our little guild had her eye on a different talent of mine. Somehow she figured out that, when I'm really well and truly angry, I get icy calm and absolutely vicious with my words, without ever descending into actual swearing. I can't really give examples, though, because every time it's happened (which is only about 4 or 5 times in my life), I am so angry that I have no idea what I've actually said, only that the desired effect has been achieved. Regardless, somehow she figured this out, and decided to use it to her advantage.
One of the Revelers- a male who was probably about my age or so- had a bad habit of showing up whenever he felt like it, dropping his stuff off at our camp, and then wandering off to flirt with various women instead of doing the (few) things that we actually had scheduled and were required to do. Apparently, he was young enough and pretty enough that none of the other Revelers ever managed to tell him off for it without succumbing to a charming smile and well-placed compliment. I'm not one to be swayed by a pretty face, but I never figured it was my business, so I generally avoided him.
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| The daily parade through the Faire. |
On the very last day of Faire, the guy- we'll call him Phillip- had not shown up by the time the last dance rolled around. It was roughly 3pm, and I was greatly looking forward to one last dance around the Maypole. I had made sure to take camp duty (making sure no one took our stuff) the weekend before so I wouldn't have to miss out on the last weekend of dances, and had just started packing up my stuff to head off when the Headmistress came up and told me that I wouldn't be going. Feeling extremely put out, I asked why not. She didn't even bother lying- she looked me straight in the eye and said that Phillip had finally called to say he was on his way, and she wanted me to 'put him in his place.'
Now, why she waited until the last day to do this, I do not know. Maybe because it was a surefire way to make me mad, maybe because it was a last-ditch effort to show him the error of his ways, I don't know. But man, I was angry. I tried pointing out that I'd done my share of camp duty, that everyone in Faire knew how much I loved the Maypole Dance, that I was supposed to move away the next year, so I'd never have a chance to do it again... EVER... to no avail. She told me to sit and mind camp, and when Phillip came in, to let him know his behavior was unappreciated.
So I sat. And stewed. I could hear the music for the dances from camp. I could hear the other Revelers calling out the steps . I could hear the laughter and fun, and the longer I waited, the angrier I got. Sure enough, about halfway through the dances, Phillip comes swaggering up to camp, drops his stuff, and tells me he's going to head over and join in the fun.
To this day, I have no idea what I said. All I remember is saying, "No, actually, you're not going to," and ordering him to sit down while I detailed exactly why he would not only be not going to the dance, but also sitting down, shutting up, and not saying a word unless I asked him a direct question, which would only be answered with a yes or no. I don't even remember hearing the end of the dance- all I recall is sitting in absolute silence across the fire from Phillip and glaring at him, where he sat, cowed, on a log, until everyone came back. I gave the Headmistress a deathglare, asked if I could be excused, and walked away to cool off.
I still get a little ticked off when I think about it, because, basically, I was denied something that I really wanted simply because no one else had the spine to do what needed done. I never have danced another Maypole Dance in the 17 years since then, and only once, many years later, did I bother going back to the Virginia Faire to see what had become of it. I'm not even sure what ever happened to Phillip, as I think he sat on that log in camp for the rest of the day, and I made no effort to reopen communication with him. The only good thing that came out of the whole experience was that it's easier for me to see when I'm being used, and can usually cut it off before it gets to the point of missing out on the things I really want to do. Or at least... I try. Cheers!
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