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Pennsic journal
Aug. 19th, 2005 11:47 pmAh, it was grand. Probably still is, but I ran out of vacation and have to spend the end of the week working. I'd be working from Pennsic, but the hourly rates for working online there were prohibitive. Alas.
The weather was good. The mint julep and jambalaya party well attended and friendly. There were nights when I had too much mead. Lovely lovely mead. Yum.
The annual Tygershark/Casa Barducci feud went very well, kicked off by Nico, the captain of my marines, making off with their cash box after they said no one could possibly steal it.
Nico dislikes kids. Their first retaliation, after a nicely calligraphed threat about his wife being a widow, a curse on the vessel and all its crew, yadda yadda involved the Barducci's buying two king sized boxes of Otter Pops and putting them in the freezer. Then handing them out to every child they saw, as payment for walking by camp and glaring at the ship, shouting such things as "Down with Tygershark" and "Curse you, Tygershark thieves!" Which they did with great glee, enthusiasm, and repetition, the little darlings.
A truce was called, for Nico to go have a 'sit down' at the Turkish coffeeshop up in the bazaar, a nice central area with lots of witnesses. He went armed of course. Mano a mano with the Don. The Don wasn't actually there, though, and his representative also brough an entourage. So we saw a hint of weapons and struck first, killing 7 of them while down in the swamp starting the shelling of the villa. (Water balloon sling - 150 yards or so.)
The next afternoon, the little kid selling the daily newspaper came into camp with his friends, and promptly after finding out which was Nico fell upon him in murder most foul. We had to convince them to stop smashing up the body, give them proof of his demise and get the stick away from the little girl. (My first mate on his way back from the showers accidentally flashed the little darlings, scarring them for life no doubt.)
And so sadness fell upon us. The line up to console the widow was long, and defended heartily by the first mate. That night we all attended the Barducci party to show no hard feelings, and the ghost of Nico followed us to blow out candles, sending cold shivers down the backs of many guests. It was an uneasy social event.
We hosted the lying in and wake the next evening, using up all our ice to keep the body fresh during the day. The mortician did such a nice job with makeup, giving Nico a very lifelike look with the rouge. I promoted Nico's best friend in his place to captain of my marines, as it is not a position that could go long unfilled in a time of crisis in port. The corpse for a moment seemed to stir almost in protest, but when the new Captain investigated he assured us all quickly that it was just the wind off the lake stirring the draperies.
A representative of the Don Barducci attended, reading his thoughts about Nico. Then the will was read, showing that with his last breath Nico wished to end the trials by presenting the Don as a gesture of respect with his most prized possession. His dying wish was that the Don might hang it in a position of prominence in the casa. And so was brought forth, painted on the finest of venetian velvets, a portrait of The King in his later years in a tropical location. (Velvet elvis, yup.) We made them take it with them.
The widow accidentally spilled a great cupful of whiskey on the corpse, however, reviving it to our great surprise. And, one supposes, to the great chagrin of the now demoted Lieutenant of the Marines as well as the one consoling the widow with his every breath.
And a good time was had by all. Got to make a little music, see good friends, walk lots, and probably imbibe a little too much. But as I drink so seldom and so little anywhere else, I decided after much thought to forgive my moments of excess and tipsiness. Gossip was a little juicy here and there, for old acquaintances and such, but in general good. A most excellent friend of mine and drummer is moving to Tir Ysgithir (spelling? Flagstaff, I believe)
My biggest surprise was JP and Baldrick showing up from Ottawa, apparently come down to hang with us and Brucie from Australia. Baldrick hadn't been to Pennsic in 10 years. Came back one night to have Brucie from Oz, JP from Canada, Foote from England, and Gareth from LA all howling with laughter in camp. Sat down, tried to join in, but alas, it was one of those occasions where if you haven't been laughing with them for the last 4 hours you don't get the jokes. Plus the empty bottle of tullamore dew may have had something to do with it.
All in all, a splendid year.
The weather was good. The mint julep and jambalaya party well attended and friendly. There were nights when I had too much mead. Lovely lovely mead. Yum.
The annual Tygershark/Casa Barducci feud went very well, kicked off by Nico, the captain of my marines, making off with their cash box after they said no one could possibly steal it.
Nico dislikes kids. Their first retaliation, after a nicely calligraphed threat about his wife being a widow, a curse on the vessel and all its crew, yadda yadda involved the Barducci's buying two king sized boxes of Otter Pops and putting them in the freezer. Then handing them out to every child they saw, as payment for walking by camp and glaring at the ship, shouting such things as "Down with Tygershark" and "Curse you, Tygershark thieves!" Which they did with great glee, enthusiasm, and repetition, the little darlings.
A truce was called, for Nico to go have a 'sit down' at the Turkish coffeeshop up in the bazaar, a nice central area with lots of witnesses. He went armed of course. Mano a mano with the Don. The Don wasn't actually there, though, and his representative also brough an entourage. So we saw a hint of weapons and struck first, killing 7 of them while down in the swamp starting the shelling of the villa. (Water balloon sling - 150 yards or so.)
The next afternoon, the little kid selling the daily newspaper came into camp with his friends, and promptly after finding out which was Nico fell upon him in murder most foul. We had to convince them to stop smashing up the body, give them proof of his demise and get the stick away from the little girl. (My first mate on his way back from the showers accidentally flashed the little darlings, scarring them for life no doubt.)
And so sadness fell upon us. The line up to console the widow was long, and defended heartily by the first mate. That night we all attended the Barducci party to show no hard feelings, and the ghost of Nico followed us to blow out candles, sending cold shivers down the backs of many guests. It was an uneasy social event.
We hosted the lying in and wake the next evening, using up all our ice to keep the body fresh during the day. The mortician did such a nice job with makeup, giving Nico a very lifelike look with the rouge. I promoted Nico's best friend in his place to captain of my marines, as it is not a position that could go long unfilled in a time of crisis in port. The corpse for a moment seemed to stir almost in protest, but when the new Captain investigated he assured us all quickly that it was just the wind off the lake stirring the draperies.
A representative of the Don Barducci attended, reading his thoughts about Nico. Then the will was read, showing that with his last breath Nico wished to end the trials by presenting the Don as a gesture of respect with his most prized possession. His dying wish was that the Don might hang it in a position of prominence in the casa. And so was brought forth, painted on the finest of venetian velvets, a portrait of The King in his later years in a tropical location. (Velvet elvis, yup.) We made them take it with them.
The widow accidentally spilled a great cupful of whiskey on the corpse, however, reviving it to our great surprise. And, one supposes, to the great chagrin of the now demoted Lieutenant of the Marines as well as the one consoling the widow with his every breath.
And a good time was had by all. Got to make a little music, see good friends, walk lots, and probably imbibe a little too much. But as I drink so seldom and so little anywhere else, I decided after much thought to forgive my moments of excess and tipsiness. Gossip was a little juicy here and there, for old acquaintances and such, but in general good. A most excellent friend of mine and drummer is moving to Tir Ysgithir (spelling? Flagstaff, I believe)
My biggest surprise was JP and Baldrick showing up from Ottawa, apparently come down to hang with us and Brucie from Australia. Baldrick hadn't been to Pennsic in 10 years. Came back one night to have Brucie from Oz, JP from Canada, Foote from England, and Gareth from LA all howling with laughter in camp. Sat down, tried to join in, but alas, it was one of those occasions where if you haven't been laughing with them for the last 4 hours you don't get the jokes. Plus the empty bottle of tullamore dew may have had something to do with it.
All in all, a splendid year.
