I think the jury is still completely out on whether or not my lineage to the Wicked Witch of the West still exists.
On one hand, I’ve proven that I do not melt in water. I spent a gloriously cool day at Faire yesterday, that turned from cool temps and cloudy skies to a complete downpour that I eventually gave in and walked thru, soaking myself to the skin. The Wicked Witch would have melted there.
On the other hand —- I scared to death a smarmy little 13 year old Dorothy that some might say was just trying to do her job. But like the witch, “Hey it was all in fun, no harm, no foul!”
While a group of us were trying to stay a bit drier we hunkered down underneath one of a very few areas that had cover from the rainy skies (we get rain in this story, not tornadoes). A brash little too-big-for-her-breeches child informed a friend of mine that smoking wasn’t allowed in our new nesting area. But not politely. She did it in a manner that only a yellow-shirted, gone mad with power newly-turned-teen could. Authoritative and without respect. Sadly for her when I am drinking, is when I find myself the most fun — although by fun I mean sometimes at your expense.
As we were all shaming the fact that a mere child would dare to be so … Bossy, I caught her eye as she walked back to her wormhole and she caught mine. I place the two finger sign of pointing to my eyes, and then pointing to hers in the “I’m watching you!” stance, and we all laughed. Even patrons near us, with their own 13 year old laughed.
Oh how I love to elicit laughter.
This didn’t last long. Soon I see her head peek out, pointing at me to her head flying monkey in a yellow shirt with boobs that even challenged my own. He headed out and whoops, I realized we were NOT in Kansas anymore. Recognizing that I was really in trouble I head to him before he can head to me.
This is where reality and groveling steps in. The mom in me suddenly realizes that maybe the laughter of scaring a child wasn’t so cool after all. I really did feel ashamed of myself. I mean it WAS funny, but Head Flying Monkey Saw no humour in it.
I tell him how sorry I am. He nastily explains her position of keeping smokers out of the area. I feebly remind him *I* wasn’t the one smoking. I tell him I’ve been doing Faire for twenty years, and have never done something like this. It was a bad joke gone awry. He ups me tell me he has done it for TWENTY-SEVEN years. Like that makes a fig of a difference. He tells me he can have me removed from Faire permanently and I see myself sitting in the parking lot jail watching friends enter in and out of one of my favorite places for a lifetime. It’s time to turn the groveling up a notch and I ask to please apologize to her personally, but his large monkey wings keep me from even catching a glimpse of her. After a few minutes of him exerting his authority and me apologizing profusely, it ends as a warning.
Truth be told I do get that she was doing her job, although a bit on the smarmy side. The fact remains at her age there is no way I could tell a bunch of adults what they could and couldn’t do. Kudos to her for having the ability to do that. I also never really meant to scare her, but hey, story of my life and all. I’ve accepted my frightening ways, and have been trying to rehabilitate them since then. A bit.
I’d like to end this with an “I’ll get you and your little dog too!” but truthfully I love Faire too much to fuck things up. I’ll just wait in the parking lot for a rumble. My friends vs hers. I keed, I keed!
To Tony, yes, you knew immediately I was going to blog this. Right you were! 😉