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Posted to my Live Journal blog on April 6, 2005

I made it to the Norman Medieval Fair, on the campus of Oklahoma University in Norman, last weekend. This is the third year in a row that the weather was near-perfect, sunny with highs in the 70s. Sunday was rather windy, but not unmanageable. I wore the stretchy velveteen Guinevere gown both days; the feel of that thing is so heavenly that it is spoiling me for my other garb.

As it has been in previous years there is no admission fee, and no gates to open. You can enter the grounds from anywhere on its perimeter. And the attendances were in the greater than 100,000 range both weekend days. (And I again didn't go on Friday because that is the day there are hundreds of schoolbusses parked there after disgorging throngs of often rowdy elementary school age kids.) The lack of admission price was offset a little by food prices higher than I see at other faires: 6 bucks for a turkey leg or a salad in a fry-bread bowl. If 100,000 people all pay a dollar more for just one food item, the fair would theoretically make another $100,000; I can see how O.U. can raise money just on chow and souvenirs.

I left Muskogee at about 6:15 Saturday morning which got me to the parking lot of the Noble Center at about 9:05, early enough to get a space a reasonably short walk from the park where the fair is held. I changed into garb in my van and went on the grounds at about 9:30. There is no pre-gate show nor gate to open, and people can just start to drift in before the official opening time. The day can start out kind of mellow and then pick up its pace and intensity gradually. The following day I was present at the so-named opening ceremonies, and was the only patron there as King Alfred and other assorted nobles and knights stood around and chatted in quite 21st century English, and one even talking into a little black cellphone, until the King suddenly started proclaiming in a loud voice and everyone sort of went into character. Around and about, the merchants were still setting out their wares.

Almost immediately after crossing the street where a voice from a speaker tells me to "walk by your dog" and came on the grounds, I spied Bruce and Susi, who then showed me a tent by the Gryphon stage where I could later bring in and park the harp. Norman is so far the only faire I've seen where the bands are amplified electronically, and at this stage was a setup improved from last year. The mikes went thru a snake to a 16 channel mixer, which was in a tent behind the audience facing the stage, where a sound man could actually run sound while hearing the main speakers. After the first morning, in a scene not unlike the truck with an open hood in the Tex-Mex neighborhood surrounded by assorted relatives and neighbors with mechanical advice, the man running it was able to get enough electronic advice to finally be able run the equipment to most everyone's satisfaction. The only improvement remaining to be made is the introduction of a stereo power amplifier to replace the monaural one that was still being used. Unfortunately, the remaining two stages were like last year, where the mikes went thru their own individual cords to a single big box with circular knobs on the front, in a tent off to the side of the stage where any person operating it would not hear the speakers clearly.

I went into butterfly mode for a while looking at stores and stuff, then returned to the Gryphon stage to find a juggler, Harmless T. Jester, who had some of the most amusing patter and was very good at involving kids from the audience. I didn't stray far from the Gryphon stage the next few hours; without moving I was able to behold Queen's Gambit, Spankopita, playing real medieval music on harp, big recorders, harp, and something that looked like a big gourd mandolin with samisen strings; and Tullamore, with a new woman on fiddle whom I had seen with the Counterfeit Bards as recently as Sedalia last year, and a new man in a kilt who as well as a mandolin and a banjo sometimes played a bagpipe. They now have perhaps the most eclectic costuming of any faire band: Gypsy, wench, peasant, and highlander.

Round about 1 started roaming again and I went by the Unicorn Stage to catch the end of the act of Calliope House, four women who switch between an assorted of string instruments and play tunes with lots of eighth notes at sometimes breakneck speeds. They announced that they would be having an open jam again under a canopy they had erected (like they did last year), and I spent most of the rest of the afternoon there with my harp. I knew few of their tunes, but I was able to grasp the chords fast enough and at least come up with arpeggios or countermelodies. It was an exhilarating experience riding along with such virtuosi. My fingertips were dry and cracked from spending the last four months handling construction materials and it was often painful to pluck, but I was plenty motivated to continue in spite of it.

Later in the day I went by the chess board to first see the Counterfeit Bards, who had John McGaha normally of Boru's Ghost sitting in with them, then the human chess game, which was performed by mostly teenagers in the Arthurian Order of Avalon (AOA). It was simpler and easier to understand than most other games I have seen. I returned to Gryphon at 6 for the Last Huzzah, their pub sing show. Bruce saw me approaching carrying my harp case and he beckoned me up onto the stage. My harp was competing with some amplified sounds and I don't know how well anyone else was hearing me most of the time, but there was one round of Health to the Company where I was starting to get a groove. Mary of Tullamore said "that was lovely", and I can see what you mean Bruce and Susi about getting complimented by musicians you admire yourself.

Sunday was mostly a repeat of Saturday, Gryphon in the morning, and the jam tent in the afternoon. But in between I came across The Rogues putting on an unscheduled gig in the pathway. I recognized them as the Rogues by a few of the tunes that I had heard from them before, but the only person remaining of the four I danced in front of in 2001 was Randy Wothke, who isn't even a piper, but a snare drummer. But the band's sound and repertoire goes on even with all new bagpipers. (Minstrosity, how do you do it? You are perhaps the most stable band I have witnessed in my still short rennie career. I never see you arguing with each other, at least not out in front of the patrons.) Randy was still there and remembering, however, and he coaxed me into dancing, which I did. That inspired a few others to strut after me, then four gypsily clad women came out and I joined them in una onda communal. It was another epiphanic moment where I felt assured that the path I'm now on is good (wherever it's leading).

As before, the costumes on some of the mundanes were as interesting as the garbed ones. There were many young women wearing the miniest mini-skirts I've seen since being on the campus of UNM back in 1974. The song that everybody seemed to be doing to death this time was Johnny Jump Up.