The Pipe Bit: Renaissance

By Chris Rentner

Jeff,

As instructed, my long-suffering wife and I went to the Bristol Renaissance Faire last Saturday.  Also as instructed, I kept an eye out for smoking-related happenings and merchandise.  Here’s what I saw.

The smoking started before the Faire even opened.  In the grassy hill that is the preferred parking for the Faire, a woman emerging from a silver Elantra with Illinois plates lit a cigarette.  You can smoke here; take advantage of it.  A weekend, a Faire, costumes, fantasy–all provide, maybe, a lessened sense of hesitancy about smoking in public.

We went in the gates at 10a.m. and, walking down the main path, spotted a vendor selling hookahs, water pipes from the Middle East.  Three shelves offered many shapes, sizes and colors; and there were even six sample jars of the sticky, brightly colored stuff  that is used in hookahs.  Turned out that this booth was a expansion of an existing one; this was the first year they had the pipes for sale.

Later in the day–with our fellow Faire-goers smoking mostly cigarettes, though a few churchwarden-style pipes were spotted–we stopped at the one booth dedicated solely to pipes.  These too were churchwardens; they seemed to be made of ceramic, then glazed (not good).  Their racks, holding two pipes each, could be hung on a wall for display.  Seeing five sample jars of the ususal suspects–black cavendish, burley and bright–I asked the vendor what burley tasted like.  “Like a Virginia light,” he replied, incorrectly.  The blends had Faire-themed names, like Mary Queen of Scots.

Cigars started to appear in the early afternoon, after lunch.  A cigar cart was set up on the grounds (Cigars a la Carte) selling a small selection of premium smokes, and a couple kinds of clove cigarettes.  As for “regular” cigarettes, the official souvenir shop sold a few domestic brands, including American Spirits, which were $9.50 a pack (usual price: about $7.50 and tax).  For the most part, people brought their own.

Through the day I smoked dry-cured cigarillos, Panter Mignons.  Of course, each time I tried to light one, the day turned breezy.  By this time, in the early afternoon, I was getting a little tired–I’m an old guy–and I found the mini cigars to be restorative.  Also helping were a few brats with carmelized onions; I spurted on ketchup and mustard and my long-suffering wife and I looked for a place to sit.  She noticed a black-clad gentleman smoking a long pipe and asked him what he was smoking.  “Black and Gold,” he responded (black cavendish and Virginia, though presumably not “light”).  The pipe he was smoking had a tiny bowl and a stem about a foot long, with a gentle curve.  Near the bowl, a thong of black material was wrapped around the stem so you could hold it while smoking…because the pipe was made entirely of metal, probably aluminum.  He further went on, pointing out a square braided design on the bowl, that he had access to a laser etcher, so he engraved the marking.  He also sold these pipes–about six hung from the head of his walking staff–for twenty dollars.  I took a pass.

Although smoking was “allowed” at the Faire, you couldn’t smoke everywhere;  at Kamala Perfumes,  several signs read, “If you smoke, we will assume you are on fire and take appropriate action.”  Understood.  Overall, though, smoking was simply a part of the Bristol Renaissance Faire, with no hassles or condemnation.  For a change.

Please find my travel expenses attached.

Best,

Sir Chris of Burley

Dottle:  The office here at Uhle’s, drowned earlier this month as reported in my post “Flood,” continues to be revived quickly.  Carpeting will be put in this week, and last Friday the walls were repainted a “soothing” Industrial Factory Green.  It is A Place Of Business, after all.