Here I am in Colonial Williamsburg.
This is my maiden voyage into colonial reenactment communities and I'm kind of digging it.
These costumed people really know their history.
I can tell that most people feel a bit awkward talking to someone who is trying to convince you that it's 1774 and that we're sitting in a major national hub. But not me. I walk right into it with my eyes wide open. I suspend disbelief faster than most people can snap their fingers.
All my life I've suffered from what I call my "Diane Arbus" condition. I can plug into just about any world someone is in as long as I can make that connection between me and that person. The more I connect the less and less anything else matters. It can be a transexual,an Amish person, or bus driver or even a transexual Amish busdriver (well, former Amish) - - if they've got something to share that hits me...well, I'm there.
It's not good or bad. Wise or stupid. It's just a way of being.
But it can be a drag for friends and loved ones who want to high tail it out of ye old furniture makers shop while I'm sitting there asking the colonial dude twenty questions.
Spring in the South is hard to beat, folks!