A commoners’ guide of do’s and don’ts for the Pennsylvania Renaissance Faire

Leaving the Land of Brotherly Love and journeying 85 miles west across the Pennsylvaniashire Pike of Turns, my lord and I arrived at the Pennsylvania Renaissance Faire in Manheim on Sunday, ready to get our nerd on for the first time in five years.

As we applied sunscreen in the parking lot, we marveled at the outfits of the people walking by, from Victorian ladies and Viking men to Link from Zelda and Harley Quinn. We even saw a dude in an Eagles jersey, a fitting costume indeed for last weekend’s theme, “Heroes & Villains.”

For many in Pennsylvania, the 13 weekends the festival runs from August to October are just as important as the Shore season, especially if you prefer high collars over bathing suits and theater people over beach bros.

The intensity level of attendees varies: Some visit in a different costume every weekend and some visit in the same costume on the same weekend every year. Then there are those like Riley Williams, whose Pa. Ren Faire fandom ran so deep she convinced a judge to let her out of house arrest last year to attend the festival while awaiting sentencing for her role in the Jan. 6 riots at the U.S. Capitol (she was sentenced to three years in federal prison in March, so she won’t make it this year).

My significant other and I are not that intense. As attendees go, we’re mere commoners. We don’t dress up, we don’t speak old-timey English, and we don’t go in with a plan. We go to escape reality for a while and to marvel at the sea of human creativity around us. And yes, we go to eat turkey legs.

Having now attended three Pennsylvania Renaissance Faires and with a good source on the inside (a friend works one of the booths), I feel as confident as Queen Elizabeth I in presenting this commoners’ guide of do’s and don’ts for attending the festival.

If you want to beat the peasant masses, crowds tend to be lighter on Sundays and attendance revs up as the weekends go on. When I tried to get tickets in October last year, they were already sold out. My friend who works the fest said weekends that month have become the busiest of the season.

There’s a reason October is the busiest month and that’s because any weekend in August or September can feel like Dante’s third circle of hell in Pennsylvania. For those who attend in elaborate costumes, the heat and humidity can be as much of a barrier to fun as a chastity belt.

Still, there are those who persist. We marveled at the people who wore Viking pelts and full latex body suits as temps reached into the low 90s on Sunday. I applaud their commitment and send my sincere condolences to their dry cleaners.

Gone are the days where you’ll only see Renaissance attire at the festival. Cosplaying anything you like is faire game these days. Sure, I saw plenty of people in gowns and chain mail, but I also saw someone dressed as Brandon Lee’s character from The Crow, several people playing Loki, two Furries, and one person dressed as a mushroom from Super Mario Bros.

Today, Ren Faires are giving Comic Cons a run for their money when it comes to attendees LARPing their best lives.

While you’re more likely to see multiple Gandalfs during “Wizarding Weekend” or every incarnation of Doctor Who during “Time Travelers’ Weekend,” odds are you’ll see at least one variation of everything at any point. Last weekend I saw a blue man with a mohawk (possibly a Yondu) throwing back beers with two cardinals from Monty Python’s “Spanish Inquisition.” Nobody expects that.

Dressing in costume is the norm. It’s people like me who don’t dress up that are weirdos. And if you don’t have a character to lean in to, you must be prepared to deal with the consequences.

As my husband and I walked through the faire in our street clothes, a noble couple (who were obviously actors with the faire) stopped as we passed and glared at us with disgust.

“Look at the poor people in their poor people’s clothes!” the lord said to his lady.

Scheduled performances happen on multiple stages throughout the day, but they also can happen at any moment, right where you are. You might be trying to catch some shade, when an actor covered in mud comes up to shake your hand or an artist painting at an easel might ask what you think of their work. When that happens, roll with it. The make-believe is part of the fun.

No doubt they’ll be flattered, and they may even have some fun with you, but if you want a trick to tell the paid actors from the cosplayers, look at their drinkware and shoes. The actors will have footwear appropriate for the Renaissance era, but attendees will sometimes forgo accuracy for comfort.

As for beverages, while some people do bring their own goblets, I saw many cosplayers carrying around branded disposable Renaissance Faire cups, a sure sign they are not with the times.

Sure you could get Steak-on-a-Stake, a Wicked Pickle, or Macbeth’s Mac & Cheese, but there is perhaps no more quintessential Ren Faire food than eating a turkey straight from the bone. It feels primal, powerful, and like something you can’t do anywhere else without being harshly judged.

I felt powerful eating my turkey leg for about 20 seconds, until several very rude and rakish bees began to attack me like they were the Ottoman Empire and I was Constantinople. It got so bad we had to get up from our seats and eat our turkey leg on the run.

Honestly, I don’t know if these insects are bees or wasps but I do know that as soon as it started happening, I had flashbacks to my last trip to the faire five years ago when it happened then too. A quick Google search shows other turkey leg aficionados at festivals outside of Pennsylvania have also experienced this phenomenon.

I guess even bees do their own sting at the Ren Faire.