All right, folks, you seem to have got the gist of it. Time for Balance (of the Formidable but Mead-Fogged Memory) to add some details. More detail than anyone wants, probably. Watch out, the video clips take a long time to download.
I arrived some 15 minutes late at the Green Man; I was mortified–I hate being late. Besides Zyada and JimB appeared to have a head start on the drinking. Oddly enough, the heat seemed to be bothering them more than me, despite my thick, long-sleeved black Faire shirt, black jeans, and black boots. The loose, billowy shirt helped more than I expected. We had just had time to start talking about who else would show up, when Hootee and Grace arrived.
We had just acquired more alcohol when we were intercepted by gypsies, who lured us off to their show. It was quite entertaining, although Jim wandered off in the midst of it for another beer (BTW, anytime I don’t actually mention Jim, assume that he was fetching a beer, drinking a beer, or laughing).
Then came the encounter that traumatized Grace and actually rendered Hootee (momentarily) speechless:
He looked to be in his late fifties, with a beer gut and salt & pepper stubble. He had a purple cigar in an oversized cigarette holder. The purple eyeshadow clashed with his pink tutu, which was in turn at war with his rainbow leotard. He had little translucent, glittery wings.
<Don Corleone>
He was da Fairy Godfadda.
</Don Corleone>
I am so pissed that I didn’t get a shot of him asking Grace why the couch potatoes on her shirt were up and walking around (this was just before Grace hid–she actually is a bit shy, although alcohol seems to ameliorate the condition). After the inevitable loud blinking and dazed questions asked of the Faire regulars (apparently Zyada and me), we moved on.
We stopped in a little shop full of Oriental carvings and generally neat stuff, where Hootee and I looked at some really nice wolf pictures the boothie made in Photoshop–I’ve got to learn to do stuff like that. We didn’t stay long, though–we were headed for a pub, how long would you expect us to linger? The bartender at the Painted Badger knows me all too well–he was pouring mead before I even ordered. Jim and I duly noted the lady tending the other side of the bar, wearing mainly tights and a thin flap of leather (with a wolf pattern on it) over her torso. I commented that it seemed like an appropriate place for a wolf.
I sipped at my mead as we rejoined the ladies, and commented that it was a little drier than my last batch–this sparked a few questions on mead-making, which I answered in hopes of getting more people to make the stuff (somehow my 5 gallon batches never seem to last long enough). Our attention was then called to the stage by Jim, who was puzzled by the fact that one of the singers was defying several physical laws by somehow keeping her breasts in her costume. The “nipples” hypothesis was advanced, and experiments were proposed (by the males, for some reason). That would be where this pic comes in: http://home.att.net/~dragonhold.john.net/images/groupshot.jpg
(I had to include this one, as it’s the only half-decent pic of Grace’s face I got all day.)
Once my attention was called to the music, I started singing along (quietly, so as not to drive everyone away).
Hootee: “Balance, how did you learn all those songs?”
Balance <mumbles>: “I’m a geek. I just do stuff like this.”
Hootee: “What?”
Balance: “You pick it up after you hang out at the Faires for a while.”
The band finished with the most…“interesting”…version of “Black Velvet Band” I’ve ever heard–you can see and hear a clip here:
http://home.att.net/~dragonhold.john.net/images/blleatherband.mov
“…Moonlight gleamed on her ha-andcuffs, as she gave me the back of her hand…” for those with slow connections or who can’t quite make out the lyrics. We were asked to clap along with bits of this, which revealed that Jim was the only non-musician present. He waited until he saw us clap, then put down his beer and clapped. I asked what instrument each of the others played (Jim apparently plays the beer, or possibly the field 
) Hootee claimed to sing–to immediate loud denials by Grace. <shrugs> I’m stayin’ outta that one. Zyada plays the zills (it’s a bellydance thing). Grace plays saxophone. I play lots of things, with varying degrees of ineptitude; I commented to Grace that I made my own sax out of bamboo–she gave me an odd look. (So far, she knew that I made my own booze and my own saxophone. I’m not sure what impression she had of me at that point.)
An annoying person (female) ascended the stage in the wake of the band, so we decided to tip the departing musicians (specifically She of the Gravity-Defying Breasts). Here’s Jim on that subject:
http://home.att.net/~dragonhold.john.net/images/jimtip.jpg
We wove on along, looking in various shops. We stopped in at a music & incense place called Voyager’s Dream. I commented on the new horns at the entrance.
Zyada: “What horns?”
Balance: “Those horns.” <pointing at two 10 ft long black Tibetan trumpets standing on their bells by the entrance>
Zyada: “Those are horns?!” (possible paraphrase)
Balance: “Ouch.” (had just bitten tongue on numerous “horny” jokes)
Zyada and I tried to introduce Jim and Grace to sandalwood fans, but neither seemed able to smell them properly–I don’t understand it; I had picked up the scent from outside the shop. I played with kalimbas and dumbeks and looked wistfully at harps while Zyada examined sparkly, jangly things, and the others looked slightly puzzled. I think Hootee was outside scoping out men in kilts, as she asked a bit later whether or not they wear anything under them. More on this later.
We began looping back toward the Painted Badger for more “supplies.” Along the way, we noticed a plastic camel in front of a booth. Why this caught anyone’s attention, I don’t know (I was watching a chick in a fur bikini), but apparently some ribald remark caused Hootee and Zyada to pose with the camel. So here is Hootee’s customary gratuitous boob shot:
http://home.att.net/~dragonhold.john.net/images/hootieboob.jpg
And here’s Zyada’s Insert-Your-Own-“Hump”-Joke shot:
http://home.att.net/~dragonhold.john.net/images/zyadacamel.jpg
Eventually we reached the Badger, where I shocked my friend the bartender by ordering water. Then I ordered my mead, and restored reason to his world. Zyada, Grace, and Hootee shared some rum punch–the exact proportions are somewhat hazy–and became (ahem) fairly relaxed. They provided color commentary on the men wandering through the pub, and decided that some men just shouldn’t wear loincloths in public. I am of the opinion that NO men should, but I was too busy watching a woman in 2 flaps and a strap (placement optional) to comment.
We stagger…strolled out of the Badger with an eye to completing our loop around the Faire. There didn’t seem to be much going on in the farthest reaches–it was mostly kiddy games, and the kids (not being fools) were no doubt some place cooler. I suggested drunken archery, but was voted down by our well-endowed but archery-impaired contingent–probably just as well. We were about to give up on the area when a lady from a ticket booth intercepted Zyada and me and escorted us to a women with a large supply of ribbons. We were awarded ribbons for being in costume, and granted the right to mock anyone with fewer ribbons (I had 3; I don’t recall how many Zyada got). The current front-runner had 10 ribbons.
Ribbon-lady: “These are for improving the view; the better the view, the more ribbons you get. Entertainment works, too. Dance!”
Balance: “Are you foolish?”
Ribbon-lady: “Sing, then!”
Balance: “Mad, perhaps?”
Ribbon-lady: “Tell jokes.”
Balance: “I’m standing here–surely that’s joke enough!”
Nearby, Hootee and Grace were getting into the spirit of this “view” thing. Grace spotted a young fellow in a kilt, and Hootee trotted off to ask him that timeless question:
“What does a Scotsman wear beneath his kilt?”
He not only answered, he proved it–and she dragged him over to the booth for “improving the view above and beyond the call of duty”. He kissed the Ribbon-lady and received 20 ribbons. By this point, I was wandering around, snapping pictures and singing “The Drunken Scotsman”; no one threw rocks at me–they must have been really distracted. My gentle readers can judge his effect on the view in Angus’s “…For a gift they left a blue silk ribbon/Tied into a bow…” pic:
http://home.att.net/~dragonhold.john.net/images/angus.jpg
Then he kissed Hootee (yes, that’s her hidden back there):
http://home.att.net/~dragonhold.john.net/images/angushootie.jpg
Then he kissed Zyada (female + nearby = good excuse, I’ll have to remember that):
http://home.att.net/~dragonhold.john.net/images/anguszyada.jpg
Then he seemed worried that Grace would feel left out…and she got to demonstrate her shyness (note that she is covering her face). I snapped this pic just before she teleported:
http://home.att.net/~dragonhold.john.net/images/angusgrace.jpg
I think I should nominate Angus for honorary SDMB male slut–I know he’s not on the board, but he’s kissed more of the SD ladies than I have (the lucky bastich). We eventually hit Hootee with a trank dart and a lasso and dragged her away–but she did get another kiss from him en passant at the Green Man on the way out.
We paused by a fiddler long enough for Zyada to do an impromptu dance (and get tipped by Jim and Grace):
http://home.att.net/~dragonhold.john.net/images/zydance.mov
Then we stopped at the Green Man while Hootee and Zyada visited the privies. I started singing along with the pirate band on stage (“Mary Ellen Carter” is an old favorite of mine), and Grace tried to get me to go on stage with them so she could get a picture. I compromised by leaning against the stage and singing along–she took the pic anyway. Then I returned to singing under my breath and ogling passing barbarianettes. Soon after, we decided to adjourn to Bennigan’s for dinner (where they had sufficient foresight to seat us in as secluded a corner as possible, to minimize psychological scarring of the other patrons).
OK, my fingers are tired now. If I’ve left out anything significant…it can stay left out, or someone else can say it. I just want to add my vote for JimB to change his sig.
“I don’ know where ye been, me lad, but I see ye won first prize!”
Actually it wasn’t her fault. Hawkwood put up signs from one direction and didn’t put anything if visitors came from the opposite direction. Upon arriving at Hawkwood we searched for the gang and I certainly would’ve walked right by them if someone hadn’t grabbed my arm. Could’ve been Hootee. Could’ve been JimB trying for the first of many gropes throughout the day. hehe Actually I think it was Hootee. DANG!