"Not all those that wander are lost." --J.R.R. Tolkien

That bearded scoundrel you see there on the right with the mug of ale in his hand, sporting a large green onion on his hat, and the fat lip-print on his cheek, is Hawke Leekeman, a Welshman by birth, a full-throated hawker by trade, a knave by inclination, promoter of fine food and drink, raconteur, singer, trencherman, alepot, and provider of temporary relief to nymphomaniacs in need. In short, one of the more notorious whoresons ever to set foot on the grounds of the Texas Renaissance Festival.

In Texas, you sometimes see a bumper sticker saying, "I wasn't born here, but I got here as fast as I could."

Similarly, I found a job at TRF just as soon as life let me.

I started working at the faire four seasons ago. It was only then that my personal circumstances (primarily have given up the nightclub business) gave me my weekends free to work the faire.

I had always loved visiting renfair as a patron, though I'd only managed to get away from work a few times in the previous decade to do so. When you're in the club business, the weekends are the Money Days, and if you're doing your job right, you have to be there.

I'm a history nut, and acted quite a bit in high school and college. Throw in the fact that I'm about 3/4ths ham, Shakespeare is one of my favorite authors, and I acted in several of the Bard's plays. It becomes pretty clear that renfairs and I are made for one another. Actually, it seems that lots of folks are the same way, from the way renaissance faires are growing around the country. (I've some Deep Thoughts on why this is here)

So, it's no surprise that I'd enjoy wandering around the grounds with a turkey leg in one hand and a double Guinness in the other, people watching, seeing the shows, and admiring the wonderful things those 16th century bustiers do for a woman's, umm, presentation.

After an hour or so of reacquainting my mind with the speech patterns, and after quaffing a few stouts, it was easy to start scatting in period language on those improvements, to the improved, in a suitably clever, frank, ribald, but historically correct manner. This manner would get you at least slapped, in not in fact arrested, at the local grocery store, or any other present day location, with the possible exception of those establishments dedicated to the vending of over-priced drinks in exchange for the sight of young women writhing around in their birthday suits, and other varieties of cathouses.

To work at faire, I needed to come up with a character - a name, personal and family history, personality, the whole kaboodle. Every participant, from the veteran actor that portrays King Henry, to the greenest boothie selling garlands, is required to do so.

This young lass sells hats at TRF

The character works pretty well. Even after those first few weeks, I was already spending as much time in front of the booth hawking in business as any of my other duties. After I strapped the biggest, baddest leeks I could find in the grocery store onto my head, and started waving one around in my hand like a traffic cop does his flashlight, to steer patrons over to the tavern, sales went up about a factor of 40%. We're talking Big Bags O' Money here. I won several awards as the best hawker at the faire.

I went to hawking full-time, and the owner hired somebody else to take over all the stuff he originally hired me to do. He also me a raise after some other vendors tried to steal me away. Gotta luuurve that. All of the sudden, this renfair thing I was doing mostly for the fun of it morphed into a fairly lucrative hobby.

I've been at it ever since, working for various vendors, in a nearly perfect amalgam of having fun and making money. Last year sort of sucked, as the guy I was working for was new to faire, and Fairely Clueless. We were chronically understaffed, and he was gone a lot of the time. So I had to spend waaaay too much time picking up the slack, working behind the bar. At any rate, last year was his first and last season, as it turns out, so I dunno who I''ll be working for this year.

But you can bet I'll be there. So if you're visiting TRF, make sure to stop by and give a hearty "Well met!" to the Leekeman.