Almost Angels, Chapter 9

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In the last chapter of my Journal I outlined a recording trip to the dawn of history. It was an important trip, not because of what was recorded, but new facts were brought to light about time travel. As a result, for a time we are required to keep our travels to a 700 year maximum. I was a bit bummed, to quote an old expression. I was a bit more interested in old history.

So I found myself thinking about where to go next trip. I was watching a news show while sitting in the garden watching a viper slinking on a bird on a limb. How morbid you say. They were both holograms, computer programs. So don’t get upset about it.

Anyway, a picture of a handsome man with a smiling face and a white shock of hair was shown. He was talking, about what I couldn’t tell, as there was no audio. He was dressed very casual, and was laughing with a reporter. The micro phone said Channel 2, but the call letters, identified it as Houston, TX. What would he be doing in Houston? You see this was the 42nd President of the United States, Bill Clinton. I found the date that this report was aired – Nov 1st 1997. On further search, I found this to be about 5 days from the Oct 27th stock market crash. I also remembered this was in the period of time that he would have been having intimate moments with a staffer, an intern. Was she with him? He looked to be very relaxed for a man with all pressure of the world on his shoulders. What had he done that day? Ok, we are off to find out!

Next morning at work, after checking in, I ran a search on Bill Clinton’s vitals for 8:45 AM Houston, TX area, Nov. 1st 1997. When the computer locked on, I was surprised to find he was not in Houston at all, but at a set of co-ordinates about 50 miles northwest of Houston proper. Why? What was there?
I set my computer at the place where he was, costumed myself properly and pushed enter.

OMG, I am standing before castle gates! A man dressed as a king is speaking from a parapet above our heads. Knights in armor are sitting on horses near by. I quickly looked around. Did I hit the wrong era? What was this? But no, there were people dressed much as I was; only part of the crowd was dressed like the King and others.

At about that time the King shouted, “And welcome to the Texas Renaissance Festival, and have a merry day!”

And the gates opened, and we began to enter. I looked all around me for the President, but he was nowhere. I checked for his coordinates again. He was supposed to be right there where that tall man is….ah, there he is. A group of people all garbed as 16th century folk. He is wearing a wig, and God I would never have recognized him. He looks a bit more somber this morning, eyes seem tired. What will this day bring?

After passing through the gates, I must say that I was amazed.
A welcoming crowd of musicians, jugglers, fairies, and other folk that didn’t seem to have a place anywhere in history were gathered. And the entertainment began. We went more or less straight forward from gate, perusing the shops situated in the mostly two story buildings that seemed to border the little city. I allowed the entourage their space, didn’t want a secret service man to get suspicious of a character that hung too close. I wished that my girl Misha might have been with me. We had spent countless hours together looking at all kinds of art at galleries and shows. And here before me was abundance, so varied that it was almost overwhelming. Copper roses and water fountains made of the same material adorned one small Shoppe, the jewelry beside it artistically formed for hair pieces in another. I had to keep my mind on my business.

As Mr. Clinton headed for the Queen’s Pantry, I pushed my way though the growing crowd to be near him. Oh my, and I can’t eat the food. Pastries, sweet rolls, small sausages, wrapped in a roll and baked, called kolatches. An egg concoction, labeled Scottish Eggs. And more, much, much more! This was just not fair!

The President walked away with both hands full of delicacies. For a moment, I was angry at him. Naw, probably just jealous. We walked a ways, looking at the treasures in the shops. The President was losing his stressed look. I found him laughing and talking as we proceeded. We approached a stage on our right just as a person dressed in rags stepped out, carrying a small skeleton in his arms. The skeleton, dressed in 16 century clothing, greeted his audience.

“Hey, audience! I’m Bob! This my friend Smuj!” pointing to the hooded figure carrying him. That got presidential approval.

As his monologue continued, he set up his rules for audience participation. He then called a helper from the crowd, a pretty brunette with an admirable cleavage. Bob extended his hand for the young lady to touch, all the while leering at her breasts. Finally, “Oh, I totally forgot about all of you were here…”

The crowd erupted in applause.

The tall cowboy type with the President leaned in to him,
“Hey, Bill, she looks like that cute girl you were hugging at the fundraiser about a year ago. Who was that?”

The President’s head jerked around. He looked a bit shocked.
“Oh, she is a White House intern, don’t remember her name.”

“Yeah, sure, that was really good hug for someone you don’t know.” He punched the president’s shoulder in a manly gesture.

We continued out tour as the performance ended, walking and talking.

His friend asked, “Do you think this Wall Street thing is serious?”

“No, it is nothing important in itself. It is just more dangerous by its looks, it reflects bad.”

“That is good to know.”

Pony rides and hat shoppes and, oh yes, the chain mail booth. The President was quite interested in the chain mail, and purchased a few pieces that were handed off to someone to carry. He was invited back for the noon fashion show on the balcony. Still, I was amazed no one had seemed to recognize him. Maybe no one cared. Maybe everyone here was here to escape reality. Yes, that could be it. We made a turn somewhere just as we were nearing the back borders of the village.

We came upon some men dressed in ragged dirty robes with mud in their faces, standing on a stage quoting Shakespeare. Suddenly, one of them dived off the stage into a huge pile of sloppy mud and then the other followed him. The crowd roared with laughter. I drifted away from the entourage, giving them space for a while.
I was caught up in the ancient framework of what appeared to be an old church. To one side of it was a rose garden. Other gardens were nearby, including a water garden that was a spectacle in itself. When I glanced back my group was moving away. They turned toward what looked like an old sailing ship that had been beached. But under its deck were beverages and beers and wines and all kinds of food. I caught my entourage there, and worked my way into the throng looking at the menus longingly, and listening.

The President turned to his friend and said, “I love my job, I love being a force for future growth. I know all my ideas can’t come to fruition, but if I can get at least one side of Congress, either Senate or House, we can do some really great things.”

“And if you don’t, what happens?”

“I fear a dark time approaching. The right-wing is headed into a bad place, and it isn’t just politics. It is deeper. There is a force behind them. It has a touch of the Spanish Inquisition.“ he laughed, but not an amused laugh. His brow furrowed, “They are out to get me. Look at the Paula Jones thing, and look at what they did to Hillary about the health care. It is almost as if it is a crusade. I know that history swings back and forth like a pendulum, but I just hope the constitution doesn’t get knocked off it base. Righteous Indignation is a terrible sword.”

“My friend, you are here to have fun. Here, take your drink and let’s follow this road.”

We headed out down a road with shops on our left. We crossed a dry stream bed and walked into a forested area, lined with games and more food. Towards the back we could see elephants and camels, with people riding on them.

Mr. Clinton said “I would love to do that, but the Secret Service would pitch a serious bitch if I tried!”

More food shops, some more games, a maze. Some young hippy looking guy letting people throw ripe tomatoes at him. We headed back the way we had come into this ‘Sherwood Forest’ region.
On the way out we passed a shop of women having their hair braided. President Clinton remarked “Chelsea would have loved that.”

Next door was a shop with incense and tall bottles with scented oils. Mr. Clinton headed right for it. He walked around it, smelling the different scents. He picked a couple and purchased them, with a couple of little perfume vials filled with his scents. He pulled several sticks of incense and put them in a bag, remarking “My wife is going to love this!”

As we walked on up the slight rise getting back into the circle of the village, aloud cheer erupted on the other side of a grassy burm to the right. Everyone walked up and there in a field were knights on horseback, jousting. Of course, no one would leave until that finished. The announcers said more battles would be held and duel to the death at 5:30.

Over the hill we went and into another row of shops. They blurred one’s vision with the endless array of shops. Clothing, medieval weaponry, arts, crafts of various types too numerous to mention. More shows, and musical groups, and dancers of all kinds from Irish girls to sultry dark-haired belly dancers weaving their mysterious magic. It was here the President turned slightly to his friend.

“Don’t tell anyone about this. There is a young woman who is pursuing me. I am flattered, she is very attractive, and is very forward in her pursuit of my affections. I pray that she will just lose interest. I tell you this so that if something happens, at least someone will know that I was not forcing my attentions on her.”

“You don’t need that, Sir.”

“No, I don’t. I don’t know why this stuff happens to me.”

As the afternoon waned, a cloud passed over and the air became chilled. The entourage found seating in an arbor. I walked on past them, and passed around and sat next to a tree not far away, where I could listen.

The President sat quiet for a while, watching the crowd. Others in the group were engaged in various conversations. He spoke suddenly, almost as if he was reminding himself, rather than addressing anyone in particular.

“It is a wonderful thing, to have distractions such as this to take one’s mind off the daily stresses of living and working. And it is a self supporting venture. I can see how the whole thing can be quite lucrative. It is a great mixer; of groups of ages, of ethnic groups, and all seem to enjoy it equally. I have seen Muslim people, Oriental people, Hispanic – all absorbed in playing in a theater of the past. The shopkeepers not only have to sell their goods, which most seem to make themselves, but they have to be roll-players at the same time. They must study history to know of which they speak as well as how to speak. They are a talented group, I am very happy that I have been able to witness this. Tell me, with people of this caliber, and a country with freedoms to assemble and conduct events like this, how could we have anything but a great future? Thank you, my friend, for inviting me. I will confess, I was skeptical when you called me. But now I see. Thank you again.”

As we headed back in the direction of the front gate, we passed an open air pub with happy drinkers and much shouting and laughter from inside. In passing the pub, two young ladies flounced their way in front of the President.

One turned to him and said “Aww, me lord, ye are a tall one! Could I see ye hands, m’lord?” She took his hand and turning to her friend, “Lass, look here! See th’ size of his thumb and look! M’lord is a very well endowed man! Do ye tarry long in the kingdom, me lord?” She rubbed her shoulder against the President, her cleavage in his perfect view, and purred. “We would like to get better acquainted with ye, but wait…” She suddenly stared at his face. “Ye look very familiar, m’lord. I know that face, I do.” About that time the President’s friend stepped in. “John, we don’t have time, our wives are waiting.” He dragged the President away. I followed close behind and finally passed them in time to hear the President say, with a smile, “Sometimes being President has its disadvantages.”

As we passed on toward the gate, I watched him. He seemed almost sad the he was leaving this Magic Kingdom in the East Texas woods. But as he passed out through the gate, he looked back and smiled, and clapped his friend on the back. I saw the words “Thank you” as he mouthed them.

I was impressed with several things from my day. First of all, I learned that to stand in a position as a President does, is not all fun and games. You take a human being and turn him into an icon. Then you forget that icon is human, with all the frailties and weaknesses that embodies. Leaders should be examined closely, and investigated to see if they have that core that will hold them to their task. Many feel called, but few can be chosen.

Secondly, I learned today that you can have magic without technology. I will enjoy showing Misha this recording.



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