We spent Saturday afternoon whisked away to a magical time and place (Crownsville, MD, 2010) where turkey legs are mysteriously pink, cleavage is a form of currency and chivalry is very much alive. We braved the long journey from the mainland (traffic was horrible from Baltimore), waited in dust and human stench for treasure (the ATM line actually never ended) and rewarded ourselves with sweet grog from tin canisters (Miller Lite was only four bucks a pop).
We're a bit too pragmatic (and sarcastic) to really get down with RennFest. The crowds can be unbearable, LARPers don't adhere to modern hygiene practices and you stand the chance of verbally flogged by wenches- but the beer is cheap and where else can you whip an axe into a heart-shaped tree stump?
Sadly the RennFest has packed its swords and wares and moved on to pillage the next gypsy camp but rest assured it will be back next September to bring cheer to our wretched hearts.