Matty Bottles

Hmm. This may require prescription drugs!

Scotty - it was my great pleasure to meet you and your wife - I forgot to loan you Franics Parkman! Send me a PM with your address and I'll rectify that.

Nah, we aren't talking about general kits - we're talking about photostories!

I'll post those pics tonight.

I think Mark would look pretty good in Brian's fop outfit - remember Rob Roy? Fops can be deadly, too.

We can set up Mark with whatever he needs.

It was certainly the best battle I've ever been in - but we're skipping a few days, aren't we?

To be fair, I think everyone would admit that they really got the kinks worked out by Sunday - that was an AWESOME battle.

Oh, yeah! I had just blocked it from my memory, is all. You mean the battle where no one really knew what was going on and nobody died and the little children wept because the only casualty of the skirmish were their dreams of adventure and excitement? That one?

Which day did I play mumblety peg? Oh, yes, that first night was awesome! Of course, I was the only one who brought anything resembling a blanket and a mattress bad, but that wasn't an issue until the third night when the monsoon struck, and flooded out Rats on the east side of the tarp, and then snuck around and drenched me on the west side of the tarp, and left us both so cold and shivering that we both thought we had woken up reenacting prisoners in the gulags, or perhaps dickensian orphans dying of the consumption. But Brian, aka the infamous 12-Pound Richard Beam, woke up warm and dry and not a care in the world. Rats and I decided to rectify that by snoring loudly, making noises similar to a bull being molested by a creepy crocodile. All that really accomplished, though, was to keep each other awake because of the other's unbearable snoring, while Brian, who is from Northern Illinois, slept soundly, bull-on-crocodile marital violence being a common occurence in Lake County, IL.

I remember my first Reenactor Fest, when Jack, Brian, and I all showed up, and Brian had the 1706 ASC contract coat that he made, and I was hand-sewing the button holes on my ASC ticken waistcoats, and Jack - well, what more can we say about Jack? - had a hand-dyed, hand-sewn silk frock coat, and Maddogge took all of us be the noggin and pretended to knee us in the head in turn, and he said "jack, you f@#k!ng b@$tard!" And then he turned to me and said "And you're a French b@$tard." And then he said "you're all FBs!" And we laughed and drank up his shame, it was so delicious and cold and pure.

I love the way you kick Rats in the face! And if we do video, I'll make a foam rubber club for you to hit me in the throat with.

That's exactly how it was! Including the cool cat they had playing the piano!

Still waiting on lies, Ratty! All of that was true. Though I cannot swim, I dealt with the sharks like I deal with every challenge: I punched them in the face. I punched the sharks in the face. I punched the tarpon in the face. I even punched the grouper in the face, because though it seemed harmless enough, it was making faces at me. Then I grabbed a seagull in each hand and flapped my arms and flew to safety, all while Brian, AKA 12-Pound Richard, ate all my fries and drank my soda. Unfortunately, I was too tired to punch him in the face, but I did kick a conch so hard it turned into fritters.

Such handsome fellows, if I don't say so myself.

The unknown fish were tarpon, hideously ugly and fearsome in their own right (seriously, these suckers looked HUGE, and I figured they were actually fairly mild specimens of the real prizes out in the gulf.) I think they feed around sundown - Rats, I am still waiting for the lies. So far everything has been the gospel truth. Oh, yeah, the Islamorada Fish Co. was at mile marker 81, if anyone is interested.

Matty Bottles, AKA Bloody Jack Madd here. I feel as though I should explain about the side trip to the Ben Franklin's: I had actually suggested it, since I didn't bring a blanket (well, I did bring a nice big piece of linen I was planning to sleep under, but I lent it to someone) and the previous night was both wetter and colder than I appreciated. When traveling into town, I noticed a fabric store in one of the strip malls, and figured I'de just go there and get two yards of something warm to sleep under. I also bought a big-ass hat and wanted to pick up some cotton tape to trim the edge of the brim. Mr. Cross heard my plans and thought they were sound, and so we decided to tag along. Now, our original destination was an actual fabric store, not a craft store, but it turned out the fabric store was out of business. That was the second or first strip mall after the bank, if you'll recall. Or not recall. It's cool. Anyway, obstinant as we are, Israel and I were going to a farbic store of one kind or another. So that was the prolonged search for the BF's, were they not only claimed to have never heard of cotton tape, but said it in a tone of voice that suggested maybe I had made it up. Anyway, I was thinking that next time I play 5-finger fillet, you can be on hand with an apron to catch the blood that is sure to flow without ceasing from my fingers. I hope someone got a picture of that.

Blackjohn, it would be a blast to meet you in person - you should come to the event.

Silas - get some canvas drop cloths at the Sherin Williams and you should be good.

I fourth? Fifth? It's wrecked a lot of good, diverse board cultures, homogenizing them into a group think kool-aid party.

I would think that any honest effort is appreciated - but the tents you get from REI probably won't cut it. Know, however, that the groups generally portray pirates from a long swath of history - so you have GAoP next to F & I militia next to RevWar privateers and L & C-era river pirates, so even if all your stuff isn't consistent to a single period, if you avoid using modern stuff, I don't think it will be a problem. However - ask Nathan, because I am just making assumptions.