I’m running around the forest searching, hoping to see a flash of red, a glint of gold brocade, the blue-green iridescence of a peacock feather. It is the proper time of day (I just sneakily peaked at the 20th century watch hidden in my pouch), he should be free, should be in the area, and should be hoping for someone to play with. Through the sea of T-shirts, sundresses, and flip-flops, he does stand out. Most hands clutch turkey legs or plastic beer cups, his is more likely clutching the well crafted sword attached to his belt. His jerky and abrupt movements are made to look like (unto) an action hero and as such he’s pretty impossible to overlook This very point is proven as he comes charging up the hill, the angles of legs and arms so specific it’s comical.

Now that I know he’s here, I immediately change direction and act like I don’t. Coy Consequence Wailes (my character) is not, but completely oblivious? Oh yar. In faith, the pirate in me is madly in love with this man. So much so that sometimes she can’t even say his name. After all, he is Sir Francis Drake, and if there was any celebrity “bad boy” in 1585, this “hero of England” was It with a capital I.

My entire day is unscripted. My entire day is me roaming around “the shire”, thirty acres if Bumble Fuck. There are 30 other actors roaming these parts. That’s one actor for every acre (coincidence? I think so.) We are all running around hoping to bump into one another because that makes for a scene. We know our relationships with each other, how our characters feel about each other, maybe even how they interact together. We aren’t floundering. There’s an outline. Anything can’t happen. But also anything can. In all our minds percolate ideas for adventures and comedic scenes that we can play out for the patrons of the faire. Not only that, this is interactive theatre, ultimate success is when the audience gets in and actually plays with us.

When Consequence meets Sir Francis, it’s often my favorite part of the day. She’s a 12-year-old girl and he is Justin Bieber (or Justin Timberlake or John Lennon if you need generational translation). She’s a pirate and he’s a knight. It’s 1585. No cameras, no security, no twitter, no Seventeen.  It’s theater, plays are written about the most extraordinary days of people’s lives.  So I aim to make every performance day the most exciting day a pirate could ever have, which means she meets Sir Francis Drake and some days he even invites her to join his crew.

Now that I, the actor, have spotted my scene partner and know her search will be successful, my pirate can start looking for Sir Francis. Hopefully I can get a patron to help me.  John Cadwell! The renowned look-out, Is it even so? Oh Master Cadwell, I have heard of tell that you are the greatest look out that ever sailed the seas. That you can spot land from a greater distance than birds can fly. Word has it your eyesight is unparalleled! As a fellow sea dog, Master Cadwell, I Consequence Wailes, were hoping to beg a boon of thee.

I’ve just turned an audience member into  John Cadwell, master look-out, the very person I need to help Conny spot Sir Francis Drake. After an entirely unhelpful description He be the most beautious knight in all the world! His golden locks to shine like Apollo himself! His face does wear the many adventures of his life and he do look so fearsome and braverious! Teehee!– I’ll mention he’s wearing red and has black gloves and my John Cadwell will hopefully take the cue to say, “You talking about the guy right there? Which cues my freak out because O-M-G (“God’s my life” in 1585) I am totes not ready to actually meet him! Do I look ok? I haven’t washed my vestments in over a month and I think there’s blood on them from the guy I killed last week! But maybe that’s good? I look brave? Worthy of his crew? Squee!! How do I approach him!?

Usually I’m told to “Just go talk to him! Say ‘Hi.'” If my John Cadwell has had a couple of beers and is “in his cups” (drunk) I might get “Shove your tits in his face!” Some patrons get really into it, “Well, you both work at sea- you have that in common- talk about shared interests.” One even went so far as to make up background for his character, “Oh, yeah, we were on the same ship once, I know him. I’ll put in a good word for you.”

This all leads to the inevitable dramatic climax. Consequence meets her hero. Often meeting him causes her to lose control of her sentences and spew ecstatic, incoherent, babbling that some one must translate. She’s even fainted a couple times (I’ve gotten great at staged falls)- the ferocious piratess who has slain hundreds of men without batting an eye, defenseless in the presence of the one she loves.

On the very first day of the faire, I had no idea what to expect. We’d rehearsed for a full month, I knew my character, knew those of my fellow actors, but no amount of rehearsal could prepare me for exactly what it would be like interacting with actual patrons. Hoping “John Cadwell” says “Haha, okay sure, that’s me!” and not, “No, my name is Mark. I’m an accountant.” and if you do get shut down like that you can play it off well.

I started the day nervous as hell, clammy hands and heart pounding in my chest- the works. I ended the day wearing a melon rind on my head. Like unto a hat. This got me cred with the veterans of the cast. “The best thing I saw on opening was Consequence Wailes with a melon strapped on her head. You are fearless and you crack my shit up.” A complement like that’ll help ease my nerves any day.

So how did I end up wearing a melon as a hat? We’ll get to that tomorrow.