The Biggest War

Pennsic, Pennsic, Pennsic!

Pennsic War. Slippery Rock, Pennsylania. The biggest SCA-related event of its kind, probably in the world. Two weeks. Peace week, everyone sets up. Parties, parties, parties, classes and parties. War week, the battlefield fills to 10,000 strong of people brandishing rattan and shaking off hangovers to participate in the most epic melee battle since last year. I had to be shown video footage to believe it happened. This is the impression the accounts give me. I’m not authorized to fight yet, and I don’t care. This is a business trip to promote the Diocese Collection. And whatever else happens there stays there.

I’m a nervous wreck. I’m worried about positively everything. My problems are fairly myriad. The tent available to me is a “mundane” tent, meaning made of nylon and toothpicks. That’s not a problem, that’s just unbecoming. My brother’s ridiculous hobby (yes, as distinct from my ridiculous hobby), so I have access to a myriad of camping equipment, including as he calls it, the Taj Mahal. That’s the problem. The bastard is 14x15 feet. It has a damn screen porch. My reports on the subject are coming back mixed from the general assembly. Some say singles camping gets 250 square feet. Mine takes up 210 if you can’t math. Some say you only get 10x10. Most say that if you’re really nice, maybe avail your tent for emergency rain shelter or common space, you’ll be fine. Mom didn’t sleep last night over it.

I didn’t get to a paid pre-registration. You should always do this. It was a bit of a stupid misunderstanding. This means I wasn’t able to camp where I was invited to, with the gracious people of the Kingdom of Acre at Stonewatch. I did an unpaid pre-registration, does that count? No one can tell me and Aliquis hasn’t been online.

I have lots of garb. Stupid amounts of garb. I was into LARPing before I was in the SCA. So I have Chinese, Japanese, English and now Papal garb. But I have very few actual pants and standard frilly shirts, just one each. How the hell am I doing laundry?

And then you worry about bringing everything. You listen to the horror stories. I heard of someone who went all the way there and only then discovered she had no tent poles. Just canvas. Two weeks at war without proper shelter is the kind of thing that gives you great stories and a permanent odd twitch in your left eyebrow. And the weather can go either and all ways. Scorching, humid, East-coast fuck-you heat. Cold is a hazard, usually when you least expect it. Torrential rain. More horror stories. Murdaigean and Ceanag on their first Pennsic woke up one morning free-floating around their tent on their air mattress. It rained and rained and rained that Pennsic. Another Scadian told me she was standing in water up to her thigh inside her tent.

“When it’s been raining for seven straight days...everything is wet. Doesn’t matter who you are. King, commoner, doesn’t matter how good your kit is. It’s the great equalizer. Then you get people with dry socks in Ziploc bags. Five bucks.” --Murdaigean

Theft happens at Pennsic. It’s not common at any other event, they say. Armor mostly. I won’t have to worry this year, though I might take my helmet so I can stand closer to the battle when I take pictures. Some people don’t bring enough food. Forget this or that. Luckily there’s a WalMart.

As much as Scadians are sticklers for the “real experience,” most of them won’t hesitate to run to a superstore in times of real trouble. I’m for this, you shouldn’t take risks with your health for the game, it’s kind of dangerous enough. Though I’ve heard of people who go for the “Real Experience,” sleeping on furs on the ground, not bringing anything modern at all, letting the bugs crawl on ‘em and everything. But those guys are way too hardcore for me. I don’t walk around with my cellphone most of the time, it basically becomes a timepiece and not much else if I bother to carry it at all. I don’t check for messages and don’t want to get calls, I’m in the moment, no matter how stupid and zen that sounds. I’ll explain that later. What was I talking about?

This is me worrying about stuff. Your first Pennsic can go either way, but somehow still be awesome. I’ve heard it said, there are times you will ask yourself “why am I here? Why do I do this?” and find yourself enthusiastically telling the story of that very moment to a circle of Scadians. I suppose it becomes part of your legend. God, can you believe that? A legend! These people have ‘em, and the lynchpin of each one is what they did at Pennsic. Mud wrestling. Battling. Drinking. Battling. Drinking. Battling. Mud wrestling. And other stuff I guess. This is why I’m worrying. I’m feverishly putting together business cards, arranging backup plans in case my tent is declared verboten, and sewing together a gambeson for peddling. And it’s not going without a fight.

Armor hurts to wear. A gambeson is a quilted coat that goes under that to reduce the impact and make sure you die of heat exhaustion in the dead of an East Coast summer. It’s also designed to stink and be difficult to get off. I’ve fixed that last part. But I’ve never made one before, and my sewing machine broke a needle on it last night. This one is made of two layers of denim and two layers of felt batting. I broke the needle just trying to quilt the batting to one layer of denim. Sewing seams, asking the machine to penetrate six layers of material, looks like too much to hope for without an industrial machine. So I’m trying to make a few new long sleeve shirts out of muslin to go under the cassock. I’ve never made one. Argh.

Luckily I made a lot of friends at Gulf Wars, which I still promise I’ll tell you about. One of them actually got militantly upset when I didn’t ask for help. So all I have to do is avoid any major catastrophes I can’t ask them to absorb.

Then we’ll see about a legend.

Until then I just have the lore I’ve picked up to go on.

Pennsic not exclusive to Scadians. You can’t buy a day pass so there are no tourists, but everybody can go. Rennies (Renaissance Faire geeks), LARPers, whoever else is into this enough to devote two weeks to it. So the mix is a little more unstable than, say, Gulf Wars. Alius says it’s the Rennies who tear up the joint and give the Scadians a bad name. You’d think all geeks would get along, I’m convinced this is why they don’t take over.

There are people who just sit and watch it. Outsiders living on adjacent property I think. They call it Pennsic TV.

There’s a schedule of classes. I swear it looks like a college class schedule. You can learn to do positively anything here.

People drink a lot. I didn’t need to tell you that. But it’s not uncommon to drink until jesus-O-clock, get up not much later, put on your armor, pass out on the battlefield, throw up a few times, then fight.

Some camps are extremely picky and only allow period tents. I prefer these but I don’t have one yet. I’m also “Late Period” the ones like that I know about are “Early Period.”

You take one set of clothing for every day you plan on staying, and twice as many socks as you need. New socks by the pack from WalMart are best. But the lint is impossible to wash. They’re so awful by the end of the day I’ve heard of people just peeling them off and tossing them in the fire.

The local swimming holes are a health hazard. The one where they swim naked is a psychological hazard. Don’t fall in the bog.

People keep telling me about footwear. Different shoes, in-soles, they say your feet start hurting very quickly. I think I’m covered.

The Serengeti is what people keep calling the flatland that you can get stuck on. It’s either dusty or muddy or flooded. Luckily I’m going to be on Runestone Hill.

Ultimately though, I get the feeling that this, like all things, you have to do once and learn from the mistakes you make as a necessary part of the experience. And damn it, I should be workin'...