I wanted to go. I've been trying to go for at least five years now and no one would go with me. I calculated that the last time I had been was 13 years ago, when I was 16 (Wait. What? How the hell did that happen?), and decided this year I would find a victim and insist on being accompanied.
My sister quite willingly agreed. Our plan was set.
Witness our cultural education:
"No, I'm not in my pajamas, nor am I a mental patient. Why do you ask?"
Giant wooden swing ride:
This is why bringing along an indulgent aunt is an excellent idea.
Pony ride:
His pony didn't pee. Win!
Various meats on rigid frames:
Who can put a price on meat on a stick?
Pop-coooooorns!
"My precioussssss..."
The smallest wooden sword I could find:
He promptly re-titled himself "Dwagon Fighter".
Embarassing photo for the purposes of future blackmail:
My, that horse has some very fashionable shoes...
Elephant ride:
Who says no to an elephant ride? Well not I, apparently.
A helmet for the wee knight in training:
Or, as Dan put it; "The brave knight atop his noble steed".
My sister is awesome. It was a good time, even without copious amounts of ale or shopping in stores with breakables. And obviously, Payne came home with a near encyclopedic knowledge of the Renaissance; dragons, swords, knights, elephant rides, and sausage on a stick. Duh.
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