Chickpeas and the Tale of Shiva

Sometimes, I don’t know how I get myself into things. Other times, the events of my own stupidity never leave me. This is the latter. Like I said, I’m not much of a drinker, and while I was in Austin, Texas, I was set to go to the Renaissance  Festival with our mutual friend, Windsong. Codec was busy trying to win a $5000 PC in a tournament, so Windsong, myself, his friend Talker, headed off to the Ren Fest. We met Talker’s son, LocoRio, there. Windsong’s knee was bum, so I walked with him to the bar, since the nearest bathroom was there. I get out and meet Windsong at the bar where he’s buying mead.

You need two people to buy a bottle because there is an 11% alcohol concentration in it. If you’re not sure what it is, it’s a honey wine. Windsong asked me if I’d like to try some. I said sure. What could harm could come from a 3-4 oz cup? From one cup, probably not much. It tasted so sweet and mild, that I went and had another cup. Then another. Another. It kept going until I’d had 5 or 6 cups of mead. I was feeling fine. I stopped and got a hair piece, and we watched Iris and Rose: Wild and Thorny perform. We went through 3 bottles, if memory serves, with just Windsong and I drinking it. Somewhere between the hairpiece and looking at skimpy chainmail chicks, I was drunk. Do not be fooled! This shit hits you when you least expect it.

We’d stopped and were looking at armor and watching men fence, when I noticed some chicks dancing in the distance. Knowing that LocoRio had wanted to see belly dancers and such, I figure this will appeal to him. I tell him there are chicks dancing over there. He’s stoked and goes over in all his horny eagerness. I turn and focus my attention to the armor and try to stand straight, but the earth keeps moving under my feet. I’m in my own world when LocoRio comes back and taps my shoulder. I am confused by this. Shouldn’t he be watching hot chicks dance?

“WHAT THE HELL?! THOSE GIRLS ARE DUDES!” he rants. I am laughing too hard to speak right away. How was I supposed to know from 50 feet away? I’m pretty sure he thought I was playing some sort of cruel joke on him and successfully placated him by apologizing and telling him I didn’t know. I’m not sure if he ever believed me. It was still fucking funny. The look on his face was priceless. Too bad I didn’t take a picture. I wish I would have known they were drag queens. That would have been down right hilarious.  Oh well.

We came to the area of the King’s Feast, where we were to attend, and I realize that I need food. I need carbs or a vegetable. I looked for the pickle carts I’d been seeing around. No such luck. I see a sign for corn. I head for the counter. I wait in line. There’s one guy ahead of me who’s taking his sweet ass time. I consider kicking him to make him move. He eventually moves and I walk up to the counter. The girl asks me what I want.

“Do you have corn?” I slurr.

“Yes, my lady, we do,” She answers in he faux Brittish accent.

All I can answer is,”CORN!” as I slap money on the counter. My mother would be so proud. She brings back the corn and I make off with it and eat it as fast as possible. I have just saved myself from heaving up my mead in the Ye Olde Privy. I’ve been down that road a few times and don’t want to go back. I head back over to Talker and LocoRio, and their talking up a “German” lady. She’s asking if we yodel. Golden. I start saying that the others are excellent yodelers. She begins to lose interest. I tell YeGerman lady that Windsong is the best yodeler of us all. She tells me I’m trouble. I grin, and keep bragging that Windsong is an awesome yodeler. I wanna hear some Goddamned yodeling, and I will hear it.

Before too long Talker shouts, “THERE’S THE GIMP!” Sure enough, Windsong is hobbling over to our post. I’m stoked and full of delicious, boiled corn. I really lay it on for YeGerman about Windsong’s awesomely nonexistent yodeling skills. She asks Windsong if he can yodel. LocoRio and I are laughing. Windsong, realizing we threw him under the bus, gives us all a dirty look. I just know this is going to be golden.  Then he turns it around and tells the YeGerman he’ll yodel for her in private. Fuck! He’s hitting on the bitch! After all my hard work, Windsong undid it in a matter of minutes and did not, in fact, yodel. I am pissed, but it’s time to eat so we go to the King’s Feast. I am not even remotely sober.

The King’s Feast is like dinner theater with rules. Normally I don’t slouch or put my elbows on the table, but I am drunk and need to support myself, so I break the elbows on the table rule immediately. There a seven courses. I’ve never had more than three courses at a meal. The portions weren’t small either. I figure I can sober up. That plan went out the window when a waitress brought some wine. I don’t have the best train of though when drunk. I always figure I could use one more drink. At sometime I also found myself with a beer. I hate Newcastle and will never drink it again. It was like shit sloshed with carbonation. I kid you not. After I got my beer, the lady at the table behind us spilled wine on Windsong. She seemed to think she spilled on me. I couldn’t find any stains, and assumed she did not. She offered to buy Windsong and I a beer after the feast.

Right after the feast a guy from that table asked me if I wanted to see Windsong get beat. In my drunk mind, this is excellent revenge for Windsong not making an ass out of himself by yodeling. I thought, you’ll yodel now, bitch. We go to the bar next door and I get an Amber ale because Monty Python’s Holy Grail Ale was sold out. Bullshit. Turns out the guy with WineLady is her husband. I watch Windsong get beaten on his ass with a whip, and I have the video to post, with my drunk ass egging the beating giver on. It is then her husband begins to hit on me. I’m ok with this, but SirCreepsMeOut has a wife that’s pretty smoking for 50, and that’s a lot coming from me. Then, SirCreepsMeOut starts putting his arm around me over and over. I do not take well to strangers touching me, especially not when they creep me out. Winelady, I assume, did not see, because Windsong was busy chatting it up with her. I leave and buy a cigar and come back. SirCreepsMeOut has left. I don’t smoke. I used to enjoy cigars on occasion, but do not anymore. I still can’t figure out this purchase, only that I needed enough time for him to go away. Had I been sober, I’d would have said something, but I was having a difficult time forming sentences.

With all that said and done we left. The only other thing I did that was remotely significant was hug the lizard man and get my hand stamped. I will be better prepared for my next encounter with mead.

Tags: Austin, Beer, Creeps, Drunk, Food., Mead, Ren Fest, Texas

This entry was posted on Wednesday, October 21st, 2009 at 8:54 pm and is filed under How Did I Get Myself Into This?!. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.