Beltaine

Beltaine was an okay event. Some great things happened, like the two elevations, that I was really glad to be there for. I enjoyed getting to hang out with people I don't see as often as I'd like (missed one or two, unfortunately, due to time). The whole thing was...... not ruined, but stained by Friday night. The trip itself was pretty bad, because we got stuck in a traffic jam caused by a wreck on the I-30 bridge, and it took an hour to get from the house to Prothro Junction, a trip that normally takes about half that time. Then, when we got there, I realized that I had packed my toiletries, including my prescription meds, but I hadn't put that bag in the suitcase. So, we went all the way home, got the bag, stopped for gas and a quick bite at McDonald's, and headed out again. It was about 8:30 by this time. We arrived on site around 11:00, exhausted and (in my case) desperately in need of a beer (which I didn't have, damn dry site!). It was rather off-putting that we were the last of a group of about 3 couples to troll in. Neale was in line first, but the other couple were friends of a certain Laurel/Pelican, and apparently standing off to one side chatting with her was as good as standing in line....second in line, in fact. But, things got better after that.....until it was time for bed.

We didn't know anyone in our cabin. There was an older lady, who was quiet, and I didn't see much of. There was a younger guy, we'll call him J., and a bunch of people's stuff. The lady came in and quietly went to bed. I tried to go to bed around 1 am. J. and several female friends came to bed sometime around 1:30 or 2. I understand that people must make noise in getting ready for bed. It's inevitable, when looking for a toothbrush, etc., that things will be dropped, people must say things, and as long as the people are making an effort to be quiet, I'm cool with that. These rude, inconsiderate people did no such thing. They were extremely loud, obviously didn't care that there were several people trying to sleep, knew that they were keeping me awake, and continued. They switched bunks, and re-arranged their stuff. They giggled, and chatted at a volume that would be more appropriate for a crowded bar than a room in which at least 3 people were trying to sleep. Then, the lights went out. It was still like 12-year-olds at summer camp. Eventually, I had to go to the bathroom. One of the chicks said "we keep waking you up, don't we?" and I said "Yeah, you do," and walked out. That pretty much ended the giggling.

I still had a hard time sleeping, because the mattress in the bunk was about as cushy as my kitchen countertop, and there was no room for the air mattress we'd brought. I don't know for sure how much sleep I actually got, but I would estimate I fell asleep between 3 and 4 am, and was up at around 8. That put a serious damper on the event, because I just wasn't rested. I have never been so grateful for Panther cabin.

Feast.......to be fair, we left after the second remove, because we had decided to retreat to Neale's parents' place, for better climate control, and a MUCH more comfortable bed, and we wanted to get there before it got too late. The food tasted good. There was a caramelized onion and cheese gallette that I thought was way too sweet, but I know that's just my personal taste. My big issue was the length of time between removes. It was not well timed at all. To quote Gordon Ramsey, there was a "two-week holiday between courses." I don't know the exact time, but long enough that people were getting restless. When the second course came out, the food was cold. We debated staying longer, but it was already close to 9 by this point, so we slipped out.

One other issue. Bread. If you are going to serve bread at feast, particularly one with royals, make the damn bread. I know it's time-consuming, but the Italian bread from the grocery store just doesn't cut it. If you can't bake, buy artisan bread, or simple baguettes and re-heat them to crisp the crust. It takes minutes. Hire someone to bake for you. Bribe someone with alcohol. Hell, use the brilliant trick that I know was used at a Midsummer Night's Dream a few years back. The feastocrat started weeks in advance, making batches of bread in her machine. She stopped it right before it was ready to bake, and froze the dough. Once she got to site, she thawed the bread dough, shaped it, and baked it. Done. But please, no generic Italian bread. There are few things more disappointing than anticipating freshly baked bread that never materializes.