AUGUST 3, 2020 – (Cont.) There stood the “insane man”—with crazed face, wielding Excalibur and wearing a green tunic and leotards, stretched to the max by excess, middle-age weight. Except he wasn’t exactly “wielding” the sword: his hand and arm merely shook in fear. And the tall-standing feather in his Robin Hood cap trembled in the light cast by his captors.
“I understand why the Girl Scouts would be frightened by a nut case like that at their camp at 1:00 a.m.,” said Jenny. “Can I ask why you laughed when you faced the scene?”
“Well,” said Nancy. “The previous summer was the first season we’d rented the camp for a week to raise additional funds. We’d rented to a medieval club of some sort out of New Haven. They parade around in period costumes, brandishing weapons, speaking in Old English and otherwise carrying on as if they resided in Sherwood Forest or King Arthur’s Court.
“Trouble was,” said Nancy, “they got too carried away for the sensibilities of the neighbors along Cove Road. Seems that some of the knights liked their ale and spoke very loud English, as well as very old English. Lots of people complained, so we decided that to preserve good relations with local residents, we’d better turn down the medieval club’s request to rent the camp this summer. I later heard that they’d rented out a farm on the other side of the river, just south of Essex.”
“I think I’m getting it,” said Jenny. “This guy in costume-with-sword was a lost member of the tribe, right?”
“Exactly. As I soon learned, the poor guy surrounded by Girl Scouts hadn’t gotten the message that the site for this summer’s role-playing had been moved up-river. Completely embarrassed, he later explained that he’d been told by what turned out to be an unreliable source that the site would again be Camp Claire. He was from New York, actually, not New Haven, and he’d gotten a late start out of Manhattan. He’d thought he’d play a kind of joke on his cohorts and crash in on their sleep—all in character. In the event, he was as surprised by the Girl Scouts as the scouts were by him.
“Turns out that in real life he was nothing more threatening than a podiatrist, who happened to dress up occasionally as a cross between King Arthur and Robin Hood, talking Old English and having fun. He felt so bad he offered a donation, which I gladly accepted.”
“What about the Girl Scouts?” asked Jenny. “Did they calm down after you explained?”
“They were relieved but wary. For the rest of their stay, they posted sentries around camp. The real test will be whether they re-up for next season.”
“Let me know if they don’t,” said Jenny, “and I’ll rob from the rich and donate the coinage to Camp Claire.”
“Thank you!” said Nancy, smiling. “With the extra funds, we maybe should build an archery range and a fencing court.”
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© 2020 by Eric Nilsson
