kethrai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- In Which Kethrai Goes To The Highland Games So yesterday, I took my jewelry, my tent, and 500 lbs of stuff and drove down to below Boston to attend the St. Jude Highland Games. This was the first time I had actually attended a highland games; it was a small, inexpensive show to do and I had a free weekend, so I figured what the heck, how bad could it be despite the presence of bagpipes? So I climbed in the van at oh-dark hundred and prepared to brave the wilderness that is the Boston spaghetti of roads and horror of horrors, the Tobin Bridge, so as to attend the show and hopefully make heaps of money. The day dawned while I was on the road, but even before that, it was blisteringly hot. This was going to be one scorcher of a day. I managed to navigate Boston's notoriously--and rightfully so--gruesome highway system and ended up on a tiny abandoned airbase in Weymouth. The organizers were nice enough, and with some struggling and hauling, I got my tent set up, my jewelry hung, and sat back to watch the show. You see, the main attraction at a Highland Games is not the bagpipes, the scottish dancing, or the food--dear hell no, the food--but the kilts. Dear NonScheduled Reader, let us explain the kilts. A kilt is a garment affected by Scottish men, and men of Scottish descent. Occasionally it is also worn by women. It is a deeply pleated skirtlike object, often accompanied by what I call a "faire shirt" (think pirate), long socks, and various armament. There are certain persons who usually wear the kilt at the Highland Games. Many of them are persons who should not wear kilts--in fact, many of them would be better served by either tasteful khakis and a short-sleeved plaid shirt, or else confer with Omar the Tentmaker. There is the Skinny Geeky Guy in a kilt--he's usually about 55, and goes for the Scottish Dancing, because about 30 years ago, he figured out that heaving heavy objects around and trying to look manly was not going to be happy with a frame the approximate width of a matchstick, and he might have gotten laid earlier if he hung out with the pretty dancers. He was right--you'll see him hand in hand with the pretty older lady with a willowy dancer frame who was his proudest achievement 30 years ago. Then there are the Gentlemen of Large Frame. Perhaps the worst is when they try to hike the kilt OVER the beer gut, leading to a dangerous rise in front and danger of showing off their regimentals. Often, however, the kilt is slung under the gut, with a vast expanse of Faire Shirt above, and shows signs of falling off, because despite the gut, they're skinnyarsed and it shows dangers of coming off the backside. Thank all that's holy that Faire Shirts run to long, because a combo of plumber's crack and kilt would be catastrophic. There are also the vets. I have a soft streak a mile wide for veterans; seeing some of those stringy New Englander types in kilts, shirts, and POW/MIA patches on their sleeves is enough to make you cry. They're so proud, if a bit selfconscious in the kilts, and some of the kindest men I've ever met. And then, there is the reason that any thinking bi or hetero woman and bi or gay man would attend a Highland Games--those who really should wear kilts. They're usually offduty firemen or cops, the kind who like to keep in shape. Broad shoulders, defined muscles, narrow waist, and...sigh...kilts. It's then that you realize that warriors wore kilts, and when the little darlings are hurling weights and hammers and cabers, you gain a whole new appreciation of statues like the Javelin-Thrower and similar greek staples. The added advantage of Highland Games in high summer is that the little dears roam around in no shirts. It was not the heat that was causing dry mouth. I'm sorry to report that the show was not especially lucrative. It was hot, shoppers were thin. But I was front row center for the hurling competitions (as a side note, I understand the need for good skillz with heaving rocks and hammers, historically speaking; the Scots were forbidden weapons at various points, to the ability to heave a good rock at someone is useful in wartime--however, caber tossing? "Hang on, Enemy Mine--hold still while I sloooowly haul up this telephone pole and heave it at you...." I am not convinced of the historic utility of the skill.) However, caber tossing is an excellent opportunity to examine the bunching muscles and awesome legs and various other attributes of the bekilted.
9:36 a.m. - 2007-08-05 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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