Secret Caverns

After stopping at Howe Caverns and before checking out the Tepee, we had to stop at Secret Caverns. I say "had to" because Secret Caverns is definitely the most well- and cleverly-advertised roadside attraction I've ever seen. The cave, including a 100-foot waterfall, was discovered in 1928, developed in 1929 and is just down the road from Howe Caverns, in upstate NY.

Once you start seeing the billboards for Secret Caverns, you don't stop seeing them until you're in the parking lot. They've been famous for their handpainted signs pretty much from the start, and they've been lovingly maintained and replaced/repainted over the years. The billboards—with lines like "4 out of 5 dentists prefer our cavity"—are the main attraction, in my opinion. Everything that comes after them is just a bonus. 

We didn't take the tour because we were all caved out from our 90-minute Howe tour, but the gift shop was worth a stop. The artwork is not limited to the billboards and covers nearly every surface, including the bathrooms—which we were instructed to check out by the guy behind the counter. I felt bad telling him we didn't have time to take a tour, but he was very generous allowing us to poke around and even gave me two floaty pens for the price of one (totally worth the detour).

They have what they claim to be the "world's only mummified wishing well," centered around a mustachioed mummy identified as their first tour guide, and an ice cave that you can visit without taking the main tour. Secret Caverns feels like the weird, outsider cousin to the more polished and famous Howe Caverns and I feel so lucky to live in a world where I can still see both.

Howe Caverns

Our main roadside destination on our way to Buffalo recently was Howe Caverns, located near Albany and Schenectady in upstate NY. Howe Caverns is the second most visited natural attraction in the state, with Niagara Falls being the first.

Before we went on the tour, we had our fortunes told by Ol' Abner and squished some pennies, so my roadside attraction dreams were already coming true. The didn't have floaty pens in the gift shop, which was unfortunate, but Ol' Abner was a style of fortune-telling machine that I hadn't seen before so I was very happy.

The 90-minute tour takes you 156 feet below ground into a six-million-year old cave system. It's mainly a walking tour, although it does include a short boat ride that felt like a nice bonus. The cave comprises mainly two types of limestone and water in the form of streams, rivers and lakes. Unlike Mammoth Cave, which is basically just a big, gray hole in the ground, there is a huge variety in the type of formations to be found. Howe Caverns looks like what I envision when I think of a cave—stalactites, stalagmites, huge boulders, water deposits that look like glass and even a rock formation called the "Two Witches" (last photo above—can you see them?).

I'm continually in awe at the bizzare things that nature comes up with on its own, and Howe Caverns is filled with them. Formations that take thousands of years to form and couldn't possibly be made any other way but over time are so fascinating to me. Although it might seem cheesy, I loved the rainbow-colored lighting and kitschy "destinations" along the tour (the Chinese Pagoda, the River Styx, the Lake of Venus, Titan’s Temple, the Bridal Altar and the Winding Way).

Speaking of the Bridal Altar, more than 650 weddings have been performed at the cave alongside the glowing calcite heart, and I can't help but love anyone who loves a classic roadside attraction enough to make it a wedding destination.

The Tepee

I was in roadside attraction Nirvana recently when my dude and I hit the road to go visit his parents in Buffalo, NY. We decided to make a proper road trip of it, and gave ourselves one whole day to make the 6.5/hour journey. When I realized that our proposed route would take us right by The Tepee, I immediately added it to our must-see list.

The Tepee is located halfway between Cherry Valley and Sharon Springs, NY, right off of Route 20 (also halfway between Boston and Niagara Falls). It was built in 1950 and is currently owned by the Latella sisters, the third family to own to Tepee. It's always been a souvenir shop, filled with Native American-themed gifts—which I suppose is exactly what you should expect to find inside of a huge, metal tepee.

The site offers a panoramic view of Cherry Valley, which you can enhance via a (somewhat cloudy) "telescope for public use" by the American Lens and Photo Company. There are also snacks available at Tepee Pete's Chow Wagon, including what their website hails as his "nearly famous chili."

I'm thrilled that there are still wonderful people out there like the Latella sisters, who see the value in a weird little roadside attraction like the Tepee. I hope that people continue to slow down and pull over to check out the view, buy a pennant or pair of moccasins or just to say hello.

Morbid Anatomy Museum: House of Wax

The current exhibition at the always-fantastic Morbid Anatomy Museum is probably my favorite one yet. I'm sure I said that about their last exhibit—The Collector's Cabinet (those dioramas!)—but House of Wax is just so, so good. I'm always annoyed by the collective outcry about spoiler alerts and warnings, but I think it's necessary to mention that some of my photos might be a tad NSFW, which isn't a bad thing in my opinion, unless of course you're reading this at work and you sit in the very center of the room like I do.

House of Wax is a collection of late 19th century-early 20th century waxworks once a part of a Berlin-based Panopticum. According to Morbid Anatomy, Panoptica were "like the dime museums and popular anatomical museums of the US, these largely forgotten spaces fall somewhere between aristocratic cabinets of curiosity and today’s ideas of museums." In other words, totally my scene.

As always, Morbid Anatomy packs a powerful punch in just one small exhibition room with 34 exhibits—the exception being German serial killer Friedrich Heinrich Karl "Butcher of Hanover" Haarmann, who gets his own spot under a curtain by the bathrooms. They have death masks of Napoleon, Henrik Ibsen, Mary Stuart (Queen of Scots) and Kaiser Wilhelm I. There are examples of a corseted torso, syphilis, leprosy, lupus, tuberculosis, diphtheria, circumcision, psoriasis and a variety of other deformities and maladies.

What made the most lasting impact on me, however, are numerous waxworks depicting the unique Hell (I assume) that is childbirth. Although it admittedly takes a lot to make me squirm, seeing a cross-section of a fetus inside (or on its way out of) a uterus is definitely more terrifying to me than all of the skin diseases and genital deformities in the world combined.

Roadside America

I've had my eye on Roadside America, billed as the "World's Greatest Indoor Miniature Village," for a while. It's about two hours west of New York City in Shartlesville, PA and has been operating in its current site since 1953. The village is entirely the vision of one man, Laurence Gieringer, who started making miniature models when he was about five years old. As an adult, he became a carpenter and a painter, and started getting recognized for his miniature work, leading him to move his display to Carsonia amusement park in 1939. In 1941 he began to construct the current warehouse that houses his collection, which is remains how he left it when he passed away in 1963.

Roadside America is currently operated by Gieringer's great-granddaughter and her family and is open every day but Christmas. It is everything that a classic roadside attraction should be and I'm shocked but incredibly grateful that it's still alive after all these years. We arrived later in the day, but there were only a few other people viewing the attraction.

Saying that Roadside America is an indoor miniature village is technically correct, but it definitely doesn't capture the scope and scale of the whole thing accurately. If numbers mean anything to you, RA occupies 8,000 sq feet and includes more than 300 structures, 18 trains, 10,000 hand-made trees, 4,000 miniature people and 21,500 feet of electrical wiring. It has flowing water, 600 lightbulbs and nearly a hundred animations that are controlled by patrons pushing buttons around the display.

The hand-painted signs are wonderful and the entire room is painted to blend in with the scenes. Since the display hasn't been updated since the 60s, everything has a very idyllic, pro-America feel, from the large Statue of Liberty and American flag that loom over the towns, to the streets and shops of SmallTown USA. The level of detail is really mind-blowing—there are zoos, a circus, mountain-top ice skaters, working farms and even a few churchyard cemeteries, that of course I love.

Next door to Roadside America is the Pennsylvania Dutch Haus, which wins the distinction of being the oddest gift shop I've ever been in. It's definitely worth a stop just for the experience, although I was disappointed that neither gift shop had a squished penny machine. Everyone and everything at Roadside America feels stuck in time, which is exactly how I want my roadside attractions to stay. And if nothing else, definitely go to experience the "night scene," which I won't describe because they request that you not take photos because it's "an experience exclusively for our visitors," but just believe me when I say it's so worth it.

Magic Forest: Storybook Forest

I know I've posted a lot about the Magic Forest, but there were so many wonderful, weird, creepy, strange and ridiculous things contained within the relatively small park that I'm still having a hard time grasping the scope of it all (this will be my last post on it though—unless I go back).

Most of the park felt very collected rather than curated. Figures of varying styles and genres are placed around seemingly haphazardly—Santa next to Uncle Sam, chickens next to elephants, Robin Hood next to the Easter Bunny. Things get slightly more cohesive when you enter the Storybook Forest section, although the style of the figures still varies wildly from scene to scene.

A large portion of the figures are of the glassy-eyed, often open-mouthed variety that is common throughout the park. It's pretty obvious that these figures were all made by the same person, and they're the reason I though this post was Halloween-week appropriate—they're terrifying.

As the name implies, the Storybook Forest includes figures and scenes that can be found in classic storybooks and nursery rhymes. Goldilocks and her three bears (which looked an awful lot like seals), the Old Lady in the Shoe, the Mad Hatter, Jack Sprat (and his wife), Little Jack Horner and Little Boy Blue are just some of the stories represented.

Like a lot of other things in the Magic Forest, most of the storybook scenes were broken or damaged in some way. Almost all had buttons that, when pushed would tell the story on which the scene was based—in theory. I think I pushed every one and had about a 10% success rate, but it should be obvious by now that a large part of the Magic Forest's appeal to me was its scrappiness.

And like finding a Van Tassel headstone at Green-Wood, I was thrilled to see two classic Washington Irving stories represented: Rip Van Winkle and the Legend of Sleepy Hollow, which both felt right at home in the overgrown, cobweb-covered, slightly spooky and entirely wonderful Storybook Forest.

Magic Forest: Animals

In addition to all of the glassy-eyed, nightmare-inducing, not-quite-human inhabitants of the Magic Forest, there are tons of animals—fiberglass, plastic, realistic, fantastical and otherwise—roaming the grounds as well.

While I'm obviously not actually creeped out by anything in the Magic Forest—in fact, I loved it all more than anything—I can objectively see how strange it all is. The people statues were definitely more on the creepy side of things, and while some of the animals skewed toward the macabre, some were downright adorable.

One of the adult rides is a safari, which is basically a trolley pulled very slowly by a noxious-fume-emitting diesel tractor. The ride takes you through a section of the park you can't walk through, and by animals thrown together in scenes that make sense—until they don't. There are jungle animals, dinosaurs, bears, chickens, deer, foxes, pink flamingos and tigers cohabiting, proving that the Magic Forest is indeed a magical land where these creatures all live in harmony.

There are lion-head drinking fountains, hippo-head trash cans, dirty stuffed animals, an animal band, unicorns, poodles and polar bears—all of which are different styles and come from totally different worlds, but work together to create the weird world that I loved so much.

Lake George: Mini Golf

No matter what happens in my life going forward, our Labor Day weekend trip to Lake George will remain one of my favorite trips ever. The entire weekend was perfect—beginning with the diner stops on the way there, everything that followed was magical (not to mention the life-changing Magic Forest). We packed so many things into three days and it was the perfect end to a summer that flew by alarmingly fast. Every activity we did was summery, including not one, but two nights of playing miniature golf.

I can't remember the last time I played mini-golf, but it was probably when I was in Ohio and I was probably not an adult yet. I had almost forgotten how silly and fun it is, and how very bad I am at all sports, mini-golf included. The first night we went to the Around the World/US (18 holes for each) golf course, right across from Lake George. I wanted to see the World's Fair muffler man, which we did, before playing the Around the US course. Aside from some glaring inaccuracies (a Hoover Dam-themed course representing the wrong state), it was a really great course with just the right amount of kitsch and challenge.

In addition to the Bunyan muffler man, they also had a muffler man-esque Native American, a big lobster, the classic windmill, a surfer, Florida orange, Vegas roulette wheel and Colorado Rockies. The 18th hole was a New York subway station—with a real subway bench and a replica train car—that you actually went underground to play. I was unnecessarily excited to do so—considering we both spend a large portion of our lives in actual subway stations—but there was something weird and wonderful about being in one on a mini-golf course upstate.

Our last night in Lake George was spent playing Goony Golf, which we saw as we were driving around town our first day and knew we needed to play. If you have to pick only one mini-golf place in Lake George, I would go with Goony. It was colorful, whimsical and more stylistically cohesive than Around the World, although it was much more crowded.

I loved all of the brightly-colored concrete figures and hand-painted signage. Goony Golf is slightly newer than Around the World, but still has a vintage kitsch appeal in its simplicity and whimsy. My favorite was definitely the Goonysaurs, which we saw from the road, but was even better up-close with its glowing eyes and big bone cane. Even the trash cans were whimsically topped with clown heads. If heaven exists for me, I imagine it can't do much better than to resemble the Magic Forest, with a side of Goony Golf.

Magic Forest: People

The landscape of the Magic Forest is made up of hundreds of figures from various genres, holidays and stories. They're made of fiberglass or concrete or other materials, covered in cobwebs and sit in various stages of decay. Before you even enter the grounds, you encounter a few larger-than-life figures, including Santa Claus, who seems to be the unofficial mascot of the park.

A lot of the Magic Forest is holiday-themed, most of which is specifically Christmas, so it makes sense that one of the first figures to greet you is Santa. He also appears on the big pencil and the pennant souvenirs that I bought, alongside the diving horse and train ride as Magic Forest highlights. The first attraction that we went in was also Christmas-themed, and throughout the forest we saw a few more Santa figures, including one with a belly so large that it was resting on a stool.

There were a lot of elves and fairy-type figures scattered around, peeking down from the tops of buildings, waving magic wands and reaching out to steal your children and your innocence. It's actually astounding just how many figures they've fit into a relatively small amusement park. A lot of the figures seem haphazardly placed, but some feel as if they were designed with the structures in mind.

I joked at one point that I was going to do an entire post on busted hands, because it seemed like everywhere we looked there was a gnarled appendage. I would estimate that the majority of figures we encountered were in less-than pristine condition, missing some fingers or their hands entirely. Some had been repaired, and of course wear-and-tear is to be expected at a 52-year-old park. But I love the weirdness of mannequins and loose body parts in general, so the more busted parts I spotted, the more I fell in love with the Magic Forest.

There were some figures that looked like they were distant cousins of the muffler men, like the tomahawk-wielding Native American or the Walt Disney/friendly-gas-station-attendant lookalike. There are so many different styles on display at the Magic Forest and it truly feels like a collection slowly acquired over decades. Some are more realistic than others, some are cute, some are creepy and some—like anything that had glass eyes—will be haunting me for quite some time.

Magic Forest: Part One

It's been hard for me to even wrap my head around our recent trip to Lake George, and more importantly our day spent exploring the Magic Forest. Before we even stepped foot into the Magic Forest, I declared it the best day of my life—eating at a vintage diner, with an entire year's anticipation at its peak. That might seem like an over-exaggerated sentiment for a day spent at an amusement park (a week after I turned 30), but I assure you it isn't. It will be hard to explain exactly why I love the Magic Forest so much, but if you know me and my aesthetic, it might make sense.

I found out about the Magic Forest a little over a year ago, when we temporarily became the Griswolds, and drove two hours out of our way just to find that it had closed for the season. I briefly considered walking through the large gaps in the fence, but ultimately my law-abiding nature won out and we left—but I vowed to return as soon as I could, praying that they would reopen the following season.

The Magic Forest opened in 1963 off of Route 9 in Lake George, which is located in the Adirondacks region of upstate New York. It's about a 4.5 hr drive from the city, and there are some lovely diners along the way if you're into that. The park has nineteen children's and four adult rides, plus a magic show, train ride, safari and the only remaining diving horse attraction in the country. The wonderful woman at the ticket counter actually tried to dissuade us from coming in by warning us that the park was most suitable for children 9 and under, but she had no way of knowing that I had dreamed of visiting for the entire past year.

Half of the reviews I read said the Magic Forest was outdated, rundown, creepy and felt unsafe. The other half declared it a classic time-warp—what it lacked in safety procedures and modern-day thrill-rides, it more than made up for in vintage charm. I obviously think the latter, although once I was inside it somehow managed to exceed all of my expectations.

The park feels as if it hasn't changed in almost any way since it opened in the 60s. It's definitely the furthest I've ever felt to actually going back in time. All of the employees seemed as if they had been there for many years, and none of the rides felt at all influenced by modern technology. The four rides that we could ride were a rickety ferris wheel that felt as if it was built from an Erector set, a rollercoaster that I was sure was going to disintegrate with us on it, a train ride through the forest operated by a conductor older than any of my grandparents, and a safari ride that was pulled by a very slow-moving tractor continuously emitting noxious diesel fumes.

We spent more than 4 hours walking around the small park, going inside every building and riding every ride we could. There are tons of fiberglass figures stashed in every corner of the park, including four muffler men, a storybook forest, two Santa Claus's, the world's tallest Uncle Sam and a Snow White attraction with a questionable pedigree. I took approximately 700 photos (I know), all of which I obviously won't share, but there are so many figures to see that I'll be devoting a few posts to all of our spiderweb-covered, glassy-eyed new friends that creeped us out along the way.

We saw Lightning the Diving Horse perform both of his shows—1pm and 4pm—and while I'm aware that the ethics are a bit shaky, I promise you that Lightning didn't appear to be suffering in any way. Diving horse attractions began in the 1880s but declined in popularity after World War II due to animal welfare concerns. Lightning is the son of Rex, the Magic Forest's original diving horse who started diving at the park in 1977. The emcee clearly states that "there is no rider, no prods, no electrical jolts, and no trap doors" and that Lightning dives completely of his own free will.

The ladies at the snack bar were putting together a puzzle in between filling orders; I put a quarter in a prize machine in the arcade, and received no prize and we tried to play ski ball but the machines were too jammed with quarters to accept ours; the gift shop closed before the park did, but they let us come back the next day to pick up some souvenirs; the magician doubles as the emcee for the diving horse, and makes balloon animals in between shows to give to the children—for $2 a piece. I love, love, loved the Magic Forest—a theme park that has remained untouched by time, become abandoned while it's still in business and is completely unaware of how cool and marketable it actually is—and I hope it continues to forget that it should have closed years ago and remains in Lake George forever.

Muffler Men: Magic Forest

In addition to the two Paul Bunyan muffler men that we saw on our recent trip to Lake George, we saw a few other less traditional figures. The Magic Forest contains four muffler men, including one Bunyan, a clown, an Amish-looking "happy halfwit" and Pecos Bill.

While the Bunyans are the most classic, the thing I love most about muffler men is the customization and variation between them. It's fascinating to me the amount of objects, themes and outfits that all sprung from essentially the same place, multiplied by changes made throughout the years.

The clown is the one I was most looking forward to seeing, simply because it varies the most from the standard model. I was disappointed slightly that he wasn't holding anything (a hot dog!?), but his "come here little children" gesture definitely ups the creep factor significantly.

While I certainly recognize their ability to creep, I've never really been scared of clowns. The Pecos Bill muffler man, however, definitely made me feel a bit uneasy. The lighting was such that his face was in shadow, which made him feel more sinister than I'm sure he was meant to be. I do love his airbrushed belt buckle, although that feels like a more modern addition.

The happy half wit is the most intriguing—I'm not exactly sure what possessed someone to style this half wit like an Amish lumberjack, but I'm into it. According to the muffler men-experts, American Giants, the half wit is a name coined by Roadside America for the Alfred E. Neuman-lookalike that International Fiberglass (maker of the muffler men) called the "mortimer snerd." The one at the Magic Forest sports and Amish-style beard, hat and shirt and carries what appears to be a rather new axe. We discovered a busted axe laying on the ground pretty close to the halfwit, although I guess it could have once belonged to Pecos Bill (now object-less) or my fantasy-husband-Bunyan near the entrance.

Magic Forest: Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs

I'm eternally fascinated by relics from past World's Fairs, particularly anything from the 1939/40 and 1964/65 fairs held in Queens. I had forgotten that the Magic Forest claims to have a Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs attraction from the 1939 World's Fair, so when the lady who sold us our tickets mentioned it, I think I actually squealed with recognition and delight.

I did some more research on the exhibit when I returned home, and it turns out that it's (probably) not actually from a World's Fair (or even made by Disney), but was created for a department store by a papier-mâché company in Ohio licensed to create window displays with Disney characters. I'll admit that I'm still a bit bummed that I have to take it off my list of World's Fair relics I've seen (Sinclair dinosaurs, muffler man, NY State Pavilion, Unisphere, Panorama), but it's still very old, historical and slightly weird so I'm glad we got a chance to see it.

The figures are original and made of papier-mâché, although they have been repainted and reclothed at various times since 1937. The figures move in limited ways, powered by wooden cams and rods. The animation is crude by today's standards, of course, but in a world of video screens and crazy technology it's really charming to see something so simple. The restoration work varies from hardly noticeable (or not-at-all-noticeable) to pretty obvious, although I'm sure it's difficult to maintain so many figures/scenes, especially when most pieces are constantly in motion. 

I spent longer than I thought I would in the exhibit—I'm not a huge Snow White fan, and it's a pretty small room, but the figures are full of personality and the sets are interestingly detailed. The exhibit has a very It's a Small World feel, complete with repeating stuck-in-your-head-for-days-soundtrack and figures that are obviously cartoonish, but just real enough to imagine them coming to life at night, when everyone goes home.

Muffler Men: Bunyans

Muffler men—large, fiberglass sculptures mainly used for advertising in the 1960s—are quintessential roadside America. Although they're called "muffler" men, the first one was made as a Paul Bunyan character, holding an axe. There are many variations on this general theme—including women, clowns, astronauts, Indians, half-wits and at least one Chicken Boy—but the Paul Bunyan ones are my favorite. During our trip to Lake George we saw five muffler men, two of which are in the classic style.

The first one we saw is from the 1964/65 World's Fair, and currently resides at the Around The World mini golf course, right across from Lake George. He's on the "Around the World" course—not the "Around the U.S." course—which is a bit perplexing. He originally stood in front of the Oregon pavilion at the World's Fair, and is now (mis)representing the Canada hole. The sign next to him also wrongly uses the symbol for the '39 World's Fair, but confusion aside I'm so glad he's still around.

The second Bunyan is visible from the parking lot of the Magic Forest, off of Route 9 a few minutes south of the lake. He was technically the first muffler man I ever saw, back when I had my Wally World moment and arrived to find that the park had closed for the season. It was great to be able to see him almost exactly a year later, and get the 360-view since I actually got inside of the Magic Forest on this trip. There must be some reason why he isn't holding his axe horizontally, although I do appreciate the log set-up, and his plaid shirt makes him my favorite of all the muffler men I've seen so far.

World's (third) Largest Garden Gnome

This weekend my dude and I rented a little cottage in Kerhonkson, New York on the western side of the Hudson River Valley in the foothills of the Catskills. As I do before I go anywhere, I consulted the Roadside America app before we left, and discovered that the world's third largest garden gnome currently stands in Kerhonkson.

Thankfully my dude was down for a quick visit, and on Saturday we met Gnome Chomsky— once the World's Largest garden gnome before others in Iowa and Poland edged him out. Mr. Chomsky stands by the road, near the entrance to Kelder's Farm. Note: if you're following the Roadside America app, the address provided is wrong—just Google "Kelder's Farm" and you can't miss him.

The only thing mildly disappointing about our visit was the lack of souvenirs featuring Gnome. I did buy a wooden nickel, but would have totally bought postcards or a magnet if they'd had some. The frisbees were sort of an odd choice, but I did laugh at the "(Not) The World's Largest Garden Gnome," regulation size gnome.

I know it might seem totally silly, but seeing Gnome was a total highlight in a weekend filled with wonderful things. I love that things like this exist and I hope there are a lot more similarly ridiculous stops included in my future adventures.

Scarborough Renaissance Festival: Part Three

When my sister first mentioned that there was a Renaissance fair(e) near her, I looked it up online and immediately knew that we had to go. One of the first things that sold me was the Mythical Monster Museum: "This walk through attraction is filled with all manner of monsters, from tiny fairies to mighty dragons. See the equipment and weapons used to slay and capture monsters!"

The fact that admission was only $3/person further sealed the deal. It appealed to my sister's love of monsters and mythical creatures, in addition to my love of all things ridiculous and it didn't disappoint on either front.

It was surprisingly packed and thorough for how small of a space it occupied and we spent a good amount of time going from room to room. Each mythical creature had a description and illustration on parchment, accompanying a specimen of some sort—we saw a unicorn skull, a siren skeleton, the tentacle of a kraken, a house elf that looked very much like a certain Harry Potter elf, a few gnomes, a Gru ("Sometimes, they kill people"), a yeti, various trolls, some werewolves and one horned, bearded creature that looked unnervingly like John Travolta (John Troll-volta was one of my best jokes of the day).

We joked as we walked through the museum about how disappointed we were that none of the specimens were real—but I guess any museum lucky enough to secure a real troll or vampire specimen would charge a lot more than $3 and probably wouldn't be located in a Renaissance fair(e) in the middle of Waxahachie, Texas.

Scarborough Renaissance Festival: Part Two

Probably my favorite part about my first Renaissance Fair(e) experience was the incredible amount of hand-painted signage that covered every inch of the fair grounds. I'm a total sucker for hand-painted signs and there were so many good ones that I was constantly overwhelmed.

The directional signs were especially epic and we relied on them quite a few times since we cheaped out on buying the program that contained an actual map. The first sign we encountered upon entering the grounds let me know immediately that we were in for an entire day of fun—with things like falconry, a joust and living chess it was hard to pick what to do first.

The amazing food signs were definitely my favorite. Pretty much any type of food you wanted was available at the fair—sausage, chicken and even macaroni all came on a stick, including the slight variation, Steak on a Stake. Bonus points to the signs that included illustrations of the food, like the delicious-looking turkey legs, Medieval-Texan jalapeño and the unfortunately-named pork pocket.

There were so many great shops at the fair and each one had a unique sign. I love anything to do with magic, so the wand shop, fortune teller, mystic stones and apothecary signs were all favorites. The Fantasy Latex Ears were very intriguing and very expensive, although to be fair(e) I'm not really up on the current market-price of Elf Ears.

After being bummed out about missing the last turtle races for the day (buy the program, kids) my sister and I cheered up when we spotted the "Mawster of Turtles" sign and we couldn't stop saying it outloud in our best formal medieval accent (that's totally a thing) for the rest of my trip.

Part One

Scarborough Renaissance Festival: Part One

When I visited my sister in Texas recently, we decided to go to the Scarborough Renaissance Festival, which is about an hour away from where she lives. Neither of us had ever been to a Renaissance fair(e) before, nor are we the type of people that would be particularly interested in participating in such events, but we were super excited to go.

We went mainly for the cultural observation of it all—and maybe partly so we could walk around gnawing on a turkey leg, day-drinking, yelling out things like "Huzzah!" and adding an extra "e" onto any word we felt like. We ended up doing all of those things and so much more—the fair covered 35 acres and even though we stayed until it closed for the night we still didn't see everything.

We missed the turtle races, the live chess and a few other shows because we never did cave and buy a map (by the end of the day we agreed that it probably would have been worth the $2.95), but we did see a joust, met some mermaids, watched half of a falconry show, rode an elephant (Hi Jean!), ate lunch and dinner (and dessert), drank some mead and still found ourselves surprised when it was closing time.

Magic wands, flower crowns, velvet-and-leather-everything, horns, furs, jewelry, pewter figurines and pretty much anything else you can think of was available at the fair. We didn't buy much but we could have browsed for days, imagining ourselves in chain mail, lace-up-boots and floor-length sleeves.

The turkey leg was everything we wanted it to be and more, and by the end of the night I was still carrying it around, photographing it in front of various Renaissance Fair staples—"Here's my turkey leg in front of the sign that says turkey legs!"—so very much worth the price of admission.

World's Fair Dinosaurs

I spent last weekend in Texas visiting my sister, brother-in-law and niece and on Sunday we took a trip to Dinosaur Valley State Park. My sister had been telling me about the park for a while, mainly because they have two of the fiberglass dinosaurs from the Sinclair Oil "Dinoland" exhibit at the 1964/65 World's Fair (held in Queens). It would be an understatement to say that I'm interested in all things World's Fair-related—and I'm especially obsessed with visiting pieces and buildings that had once been a part of the fair (see previous posts about the World's Fair here).

The Dinoland exhibit included nine life-sized dinosaurs in total, all of which were barged down the Hudson River on their way to Queens—what I wouldn't give to be able to watch that happen. Dinosaur Valley State Park has the Tyrannosaurus Rex and the Apatosaurus, the latter being the dino featured prominently in the Sinclair Oil logo.

It was so amazing to finally meet these two cool dudes in person after hearing about them for so long, and they were even better than I expected. They were really large and intricate, but felt surprisingly light when we touched them (if touching is allowed... if not, then they just looked really light).

I do think it's funny that I had to go all the way to Glenn Rose, Texas to see another piece of a World's Fair that took place in New York. After the fair, the dinosaurs went on tour—including an appearance in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade—and then they all went in various directions. I now have an unbearable urge to go visit all the others—except the Ornitholestes, which was apparently stolen. Although it disappoints the completionist in me, anyone who manages to successfully steal a life-size dinosaur probably deserves to keep it.

And if these photos of me and my sister and niece are any indication, we learned that I'm probably the last person you would want with you during a sudden dinosaur attack.