21/6/99

Where to pick up a wench

    Sometimes, something happens here at the ol' news factory that lifts us out of our dull routine of processing earth-shaking news.
    Like the other day. Here we were, minding everyone's business (that's our job, if you think of it), and down the long, drab corridor came a vision. Two coquettes in period dress, and if you know anything about the history of necklines and cleavage -- that was my major in college -- you could see the period of their dress was definitely not the Victorian Age.
    As journalists are trained to be, we were curious why two lovelies all dolled up in Renaissance clothes had crossed our threshhold. The brightest among us sized up that it was not to dine  at our cafeteria.
    Apparently I was not the only one who noticed them. Some guy yelled "stop the press!" and a stampede ensued. I almost got jostled out of my front-row view.
    Oh, the hubbub. One stricken writer asked if perhaps they'd come to apply for a job. A sports editor almost injured himself sucking in his gut as he walked past. A respected senior editor broke out in an embarrassing sweat. As I am known in some circles as a Renaissance Man myself, I was able to remain glib and contain my most disgusting instincts: I mean, for goodness sake, I was the only one assuming the correct posture, poised with pen and notepad, eager to record whatever bon mots passed their lips. (That did not win me any respect among my fellow fellows.)
    Anyway, it turned out the two dames were, in fact, mere messengers. Ordinarily, our messengers are nothing to look at, so I suspected it was all a mistake, and they were meant to deliver their message to another newspaper, on our upper floor. That seemed less likely the more I thought about it, because  that's a haredi newspaper, and these striking lasses featured precipitous cleavage plunges to challenge the most dauntless rappeller.
    Almost ignored in the fooferaw was the actual message itself. Among shouts of "kiss the messenger!" (that is not a typo), they ceremoniously handed over an authentic-looking parchment to announce - ta-dummmm! - The First Ever Renaissance Fair.
    The raven-haired fizgig, Nancy Samuels (you couldn't mistake her Sioux City, Iowa, charm), is more than just another pretty face: she's the producer of the upcoming fair at Ein Hemed National Park. The pulsating, green-eyed enchantress accompanying her, Lisa Hepps, is in charge of costuming, but rather than remain behind the scenes, she will be Exhibit 'A', the Queen of the Fair. At press time, it could not be confirmed if she will be manning the kissing booth.
    Apparently, the Renaissance is undergoing, well, a renaissance, as these fairs are a hip new trend in the US and Europe. "Cheap, clean fun," Nancy cooed.
    The idea is to get Israelis out of their 20th century villot, pent'hauzim, shikunim and cottegim, and into a reconstructed 16th century village and marketplace for a day.
    Ein Hemed is a splendid, almost undiscovered site off Highway 1 opposite Abu Ghosh. Every Friday and Saturday from July 2 until the end of Succot, Nancy's gatesman will step aside and let the crowds in for a range of sights and activities never before seen in this Jewish State.
    Like, haven't you always wanted to throw tomatoes at the village idiot? This should prove to be a popular attraction to intifada veterans. Nancy says they may compromise a bit on this one, because of modern-day sensitivities: the tomatoes may be replaced by a non-food item that goes splat. Also, our village idiots are busy doing other important work.
    Wait till the haredim hear about the wench-carrying contest. I asked Lisa if visitors will be required to bring their own wenches, but she thought it was just a line to pick her up, and nearly slapped me.
    Except that there won't be any pigs running about, the full gamut of Renaissance bawd and gaud will be there: from witches, ogres and knights to jesters and archers; an artisan market, pageant parades (watch for Lisa!), grape-spitting contests, not to mention suds and grub as in days of yore. 
    The whole shebang is being produced by Archeological Seminars Enterprises, and if their past successes are any indication, this should be roaring good fun.
    Ah, yes, they sure knew how to have a good time back then in the 1500s.
    But you know how it is in this country: somebody always has to dredge up The Jewish Thing. As Lady Nancy and Queen Lisa were beguiling us with their message of the Merrye & Gaye Joys of the Renaissance, writer Calev Ben-David, in his signature New Yawk accent, morosely droned: "Will there be pogroms too?"