Prittle-Prattle: My Day with the Queen

Of queens, chutzpah, and bloomin’ onions.

Ever been to the Renaissance Festival? It’s like visiting an alien planet. It’s full of strangely dressed beings that want nothing more than to anally probe you.

There are a couple things that come to mind when I think of the Renaissance Festival. I think of knights in shining armor, finely dressed nobles, Celtic music, perverted salesmen spitting blatant sexual innuendo, and the ever-popular blooming onion. Was that sexual innuendo?

On a Saturday morning, I ventured off with my girlfriend, Tess, and my compatriots Jessie and Steve into Maryland’s Renaissance Festival for a day of food, folks, and flogging. It was an interesting day, to say the least. Only in the Renaissance Festival can you eat a steak on a stake and watch a dude swallow a sword without feeling sick.

The Festival’s most unique factor is the various characters running throughout the grounds. There are random minstrels, soldiers, jugglers, and peasants wandering about mingling with us commoners, hoping to strike up a laugh or two. Through the hustle and bustle of this medieval metropolis, I was privileged enough to meet one of the most fascinating and majestic people of the Renaissance Festival: the Queen.

Rob (spoken with a generic American accent): What is your full name?

Queen (spoken with a slight Spanish accent): Queen Catherine Tudor of Aragon, wife of King Henry VIII of England.

R: Uh huh. So how did you and your husband meet?

Q: Well, I was betrothed to my husband. At the age of 2, my wedding was arranged as a political alliance between England and Spain.

R: Wow — I hope my marriage creates a political alliance someday. So are there any benefits to being queen? Is there a 401(k) plan, medical insurance, or reserved parking?

Q: Well … there are many splendors for being a queen. But it is quite wonderful enough just to be the highest lady in all the land. There is a sense of assuredness in one’s future for being queen.

R: What is the best part about being queen?

Q: Oh, well, the best part is being able to produce an heir to the throne. I am the proud mother of Princess Mary.

R: So what’s the worst thing about your job?

Q: The many battles with other countries are quite unsettling.

R: What kind of on-the-job training is there for women who want to be queen?

Q: On-the-job training? Well, only young ladies of royalty are taught the ways of elegance and sophistication, so that one day, they are wed to a valiant king.

R: Ever met the band Queen? They were pretty popular back in the day.

Q: Another Queen! What? Who dares to oppose me?! Who is this ‘Queen’?

(Seeing that she was red in the face like a thoroughly spanked ass, I switched topics.)

R: Um … never mind. Would you rather have more brains, more beauty, or more chutzpah? — Well, I’ve gotta say right away that you don’t need any more beauty. You’ve got plenty to spare.

(She broke into a smile.)

Q: Oh, how nice of you to say! But I must ask: what is ‘chutzpah’?

R (sitting quite uncomfortably and shaking my cupped right hand into the air to symbolize the male goodies): Well, it’s, uh … it’s … uh?

Q: Would ‘chutzpah’ also be considered bravado?

R: Yes! That’s it, bravado!

Q: Well, what an interesting question that is. Let me think … well, growing up with my family, it has been a great responsibility to learn. Education of the self has been instilled into my character, so I would choose more brains.

R: What do you think your husband needs more?

Q: Well, he certainly does not need more of that chutzpah, I assure you. He is quite … (she cupped her hand, shaking it in the air gently.)

R: Right, right, I gotcha.

Q: What he does need is to be more reserved. He is … wanting in regards to down there.

R: Okay, so if you had to give up your role as queen for a day, what other occupation would you consider?

Q: What an interesting question! Well, let me think. I admired my parents for their endeavors in traveling. My mother was Queen Isabella and my father …

R: … was King Ferdinand! I’ll take Spanish Royalty for $200, Alex!

Q: Very good, my boy! Very good!

R: Thanks. (Pause for a moment to blush.) I was a history major in college.

Q: Well, then you already knew about my parents giving money to Cristobal Colombus for his sails to the New World. I always imagined how interesting it would to be a traveler of the oceans, a … uh?

R: A seafarer?

Q: Yes! That’s right, a seafarer. I would give up a day as queen for that.

R: Are you a fan of the blooming onion?

Q: The ‘blooming onion’?

(She quickly conferred with her advisor who sat to her left.)

R: Yeah, it’s something you eat. I hear it’s a delicacy here at the Fest. You know, it’s an onion and … ?

Q: Oh, yes! I know now! Yes, the onion, and the oil, and the blooming, and the … (using her hands, she motioned the blooming of an onion.) Yes, yes, yes, I am a fan.

R: Just from our discussions, do you think I could make a good queen?

(She and her advisor looked confused as they stared deeply into my soul.)

Q: Well, I think there may be some things we can do. If we found a sufficient wig, we could possibly make you a lovely queen.

After our interview, the Queen and I went our separate ways. My colleagues and I smiled and laughed at the precious moment. Not often do you get to meet the Queen of … well, anywhere.

The rest of the day at the Renaissance Festival was awesome. We watched a human chess battle and several Shakespearean comedies, ate typical medieval food like ice cream and Pepsi, and a peasant selling roses made a vulgar comment because Tess picked a purple-headed rose.

Despite the perverts and Pepsi, I learned a couple things.

  1. Queens really know their shit.
  2. The Renaissance Festival is not a place for virgin ears.
  3. Even though it’s favored by royalty, the blooming onion is not popular enough to be sold at this particular Festival.

Throughout the festivities, I hoped to be “Queen for the Day” amongst my friends, but I was told that meant something totally different.

Article © 2001 by Rob Roan