I am currently embroiled in helping Cheryl with The Greatest Little Faire That Isn't.
It's a bizzare situation. It's a first-year faire with a nice website, decent advertising, expensive buildings, quality merchants, etc. It seems like everything should be set for a successfull run. Except for the little detail of patrons. For three weekends now, there have been very very few paying customers. Of course "paying" is really a misnomer. This is being held in the middle of the mountains where the small population is about as broke as we are at this point, have never heard of a Renn Faire, and would probably rather use their expendable income toward Nascar-related causes, anyway. A finite number of dollars walk through our gate, and it is kind of a crap-shoot as to which five out of thirty novelty/food/wench gear vendors get those dollars. And this past weekend, it rained the whole time.
Who has fled back to knitting out of sheer, soul-killing boredom after a long post-kilt-sock hiatus? This guy.
Oh well. At least this past weekend I had some fun on Saturday night with other merchants, giggling manaically over our shared plight at the nearby campground. There is a commeraderie there, as we are munching on burgers and leftovers brought down by the nicer food people and chatting till all hours untill finally crawling in to our tents/pop-ups/vans down by the river.
Best line of the night-
Brent, the 6'8" 300 lb leather-armor guy: "The question is, if I were gay, could you stop me?"
Dan, his jewelry-making buddy: "And the answer is no, but I could chew off my own ass in order to get away."