The Fine Line Between a Hobby and Madness

Yes. I'll admit it. I went to a Hessian event today. Down in Brandywine Park in Delaware.

I am insane, and things I did (or failed to do), made it worse.

I had been seeing the weather reports and how it was going to be hot as hell. But they said much the same for Friday and the cloud cover kept the temps down. When Saturday rolled around the morning had much the same cloud cover and I thought it would be much the same.

Wrong.

Still, I've done Williamsburg in nasty hot weather and didn't have much trouble. So Bill and I made our way down to Delaware (with a detour to avoid a massive traffic jam on I-95). We got there, and it was hot, but there was the occasional breeze and it wasn't too bad. We were promised the battle would be kept short and sweet. There was no point in an extended battle: The heat had kept reenactors and tourists away. The parking lots, usually packed for events like this, were barren. Even the lots reserved reenactors that fill up on Friday night were full of space to park.

So we gear up for the battle, and the extra clothing raised my core temperature way up (I felt myself get hotter just putting the neckstock on). We move out, taking care to stay in the shade as much as possible.

The battle happens, and it is short. Probably one of the shortest battles I've participated in. Then the problems happen on the uphill march back to the camp. We get exhausted, roasted, and fried. I am panting and sweating as we pass by the crowd. The overall commander is wise and stops the column when it reaches the park bathrooms, which has a hose to water us down with a bit. He doesn't even bother with the usual dismissal by units. It just makes no sense. Everyone is almost to exhausted to make the final walk across the field to the tents.

Worse, I am feeling pretty bad. Not sunstroke or anything, just drained. I have no energy reserves. I realize the problem: I haven't eaten a thing all day and I know that what I am experiencing is called, in cyclist terminology 'bonking' (joggers and marathoners call it 'hitting the wall'). My body has no energy, and I can see no way to get any. This was a one day event and I brought no food. I feel weak, but sitting does no good, and I cannot lie down. The uniform is incredibly uncomfortable and I cannot take it off, because then I'd have to carry the parts back. All I can do is take off the neckstock, wig and mitre.

Finally everyone gets the gumption to make it the last few hundred yards to the tents, but Bill and I elect to go straight to his car. In what seems like an endless humid jungle march we reach the car and I change into shorts and a T-shirt.

It does not help. I cannot get comfortable in this heat. Bill's car's AC doesn't work. After trying to get comfortable sitting in the car (can't) or leaning against it (no help) the best position I get is sitting and leaning against the wheel in the limited shade of the car. I wonder if I'll have to wait until the evening cooldown to feel better and leave, because Bill is experiencing the same feeling.

Thankfully, another fellow in our unit mentions that a park building is Air Conditioned. Even though it is only 50 yards away (with a rock wall in the way) I realize that I'd be almost crawling to reach it. We end up driving to get there.

Once inside we start a process of cooling down. Despite the cool interior, we are still sweating. Another person in out unit is also there and complained that he had been there for almost an hour and was still sweating, and he is a much younger fellow. We stay as long as we can, but the building has to close at 4:30. Feeling a bit better we hit the road, and I demand that we stop for food. Trouble is, there wasn't much on Route 92 in Delaware. There used to be, but much of it closed. We finally find a Quiznos and get Subs. I find myself eating a lot of pickles for their salt.

I've spent the evening resting and recovering.