Never Entrust Your Dreams to a Knight in Yellow

Remember Medieval Times? (The Dinner Theater place not the actual time period with knights and round tables) Remember?

For those of you who don’t live in Southern California and therefore have no idea what I’m talking about, let me give you a little head’s up: You spend a ridiculous amount of money to sit in the stands surrounding a large arena; eat a “medieval” feast which is really just chicken, bread, and soup; and watch multi-colored “medieval” knights joust and ride horses and do other knightly things. Then there is a ceremony for the winner and he gets some sorta awesome gift from the King and Queen and everyone says, “Yeeeaaaahhh!!!” and goes home.

Well, when I was little I went to medieval times. I remember it very vividly. I was probably six or so and I wore a white dress with colorful balloons on it. I remember feeling quite pretty in that dress. Which is why I was sure that I would receive the rose.

The Rose

The rose was given by the winning knight to a girl in the audience of his choosing.

You see, when you first walk in the “castle” you are given a crown. This crown is a specific color. It not only tells you which area you should be sitting in, it tells you which knight you are rooting for which is lame cuz I think I should be able to choose my own knight. That’s how they did it in Medieval Times (the time period, not the dinner theater place).

But I didn’t care. The lady handed me that yellow paper crown and I was eternally his. Even though he was at least forty and had a mustache that made me think he probably wasn’t allowed too close to young children. None of that mattered. He was my knight, he was yellow, and I was gonna get that rose. How could he resist a freckled six-year-old in a balloon dress?

I ate my chicken, chugged my Sprite (who knew Sprite’s been around for so long?), and watched in rapture as the knights took to the arena.

They rode horses. They jousted. They raced past each other with those long stick things and tried to knock each other over like in that one Heath Ledger movie where he’s a knight and there’s lots of rock ‘n roll music - which is a little confusing in the same way that the Sprite in my wooden mug made me tilt my head and say, “Huh, who knew?”

He. Will. Rock. You.

Anyway, it was time for the battle seen when the knights really get down and dirty and fight each other with swords. There are knights everywhere. Purple. Blue. Green. Black. Red. And, of course, yellow. They were wielding their swords like nobody’s business.

*Ching*

*Whoosh*

*Stab*

It was all so very exciting and my little eyes were open wide and glued to the action. I watched Yellow Guy fight Red Guy in an epic battle. They swung left, the swung right, they jabbed, they dodged, they stabbed…STABBED?!

Red Guy stabbed Yellow Guy!

Stabbed him right in the chest.

He grabbed at his chest, threw his head back in agony, and collapsed to the ground.

Dead.

I didn’t even feel bad for him. While everyone else was cringing and saying, “No, Yellow Guy, no!” I was just sitting there, still and seething. Arms crossed over my chest. Eyebrows furrowed. Stupid Yellow Guy couldn’t even make it to the second round before getting stabbed? Loser.

This mustache-faced man held my dream of receiving the winning rose in the palm of his hand and he just died.

I was disappointed and furious. I didn’t give a thought to his family. I didn’t care if he had little Lancelots at home. Mr. and Mrs. Yellow could cry a river for their fallen son, wouldn’t have made a difference to me. I didn’t even care what was going to happen to his horse now that he was gone. As he was carried out by little Squire guys, my thoughts were centered around what I’d lost. I took off my crown and threw it on the Sprite-soaked floor. I never liked yellow anyway.

The Blue Guy ended up winning the whole thing and giving the rose to some chick in the front row. A girl with a red dress and a big bow in her hair. I remember assuming she had really bad foot odor and liked to rip the heads off her barbies and then go “AH ha ha ha!” with her head thrown back and then lightening would crash. She didn’t deserve that rose. Not with the collection of Barbie heads under her bed right next to the Odor Eaters.

Suffice to say, I wouldn’t have done well in Medieval Times (the time period, not the dinner theater place). Too much drama and not enough balloon dresses.

Me, my balloon dress, and the Queen

-Age