So this Friday, Boy approaches me and goes, "You all packed?" and I remember my loneliness-inspired promise. Not very Boy-friendly (specifically Boy-friendly - I'm very general boy-friendly, bahaha), I say I have to think about it, that I might have plans with my friends, but curiosity gets the better of me in history class (where there are pictures of my history teacher swinging dead cats coating the walls...connection?), and I agree to go. And feel mildly nauseous the rest of the day.

1. Boy is vulgar (in a gross way, not in a perverted way. And believe me, girls out there, the former is worse).
2. I assume I'm going to have to share a tent with Boy and friends of Boy (who apparently take pride in not showering for long periods of time).
3. Boy does not think there are showering facilities.

After a terrifying car ride involving me pulling Gs and Boy headbanging to bad music and threatening to play his bass WHILE DRIVING, we arrive at the camp site.

My immediate impression: it's going to be a long, long weekend. At first glance, every person in there is either A) middle-aged, B) overweight, C) creepily bird-like, or a strange, unfortunate combination of all of the above. I set down my Spongebob pillow, borrowed sleeping bag, borrowed purse, and borrowed backpack (my only ties to civilization), and set to making a character. After listening to this AB&C-looking man ramble about the pros and cons of each class and race, I decide on what he recommended - an elvish templar (a magic caster who can fight) with earth (healing, among other stuff) magic. I get to hit people with my staff. Which is ugly and coated in brown duct tape. (BROWN DUCT TAPE.)

After going through Newbie Safety Training, Boy and I drop our stuff at the cabin and Boy disappears. (Gee, Boy, thanks.) Having nothing better to do, I plod back to the "tavern" (the main congregation room where registration was held), and lurk about. A few of the AB&Cs look at me like they've never seen a woman before. I inch closer to the weapons table. And - oooh! - out of the corner of my eye I see something blue and sparkly. It's a staff! A very pretty staff indeed! I slap my ugly brown stick on the table and pick up the swirly blue staff...and proceed to run out of the tavern before anyone can claim it as theirs.

Almost immediately, someone grabs my arm, says, "Oh, fantastic, a healer - our asses are saved! Come on!"

After a few minutes of listening, I find myself in the middle of a revolution. But they were brilliant! The way they schemed, it was so life-like, so vital-sounding, so...well, anyway, it was enthralling, and I was immediately sucked into their plans. We set off. We meet one of the opposing baron's minion-groups and...after declaring we were there to kill their baroness...proceed to get our asses kicked. "Healer! Healer!" the bleeding bodies cried, but I only had first-aid, meaning I had to sit there for 60-seconds per body, and could only give them one point of life back. (Whoops.) At the end of the slaughter, I return (they told me to run off into the woods somewhere), and they ask me, "Why on earth are you carrying that super-duper-powerful ice mage staff if you're completely useless?", and I reply, "Because it's pretty?"

Needless to say, I return to my cabin (which is actually very civilized and un-tent-like, with like twenty people per). I sit on my cot and think, Wow, that was actually pretty fun, and I didn't even smell real blood! It's an epiphany. I like this LARP-ing. It's now two or three in the morning, but I'm not tired at all - I go stand outside on the cabin's porch and watch pockets of AB&Cs (whom I now find endearing) beat up one another, screaming "4 NORMAL 4 NORMAL" "14 PARALYZE 14 PARALYZE" "3 BLUNT 3 BLUNT" or "30 MAGIC 30 MAGIC."

I feel a tap on my shoulder. It's a man dressed in a purple satin shirt with a purple headwrap and puffy pants. He's pretty snazzy-looking. I turn, eyebrows raised. He has a prettily-dressed woman on his arm with scarves and jingly things.

"Hello, darling. Joo are very gorgeous. You like to come back to my wagon and have the Gypsy wine? My name is Maester Lox Limpke." I never do discover whether it's Mister or Master, but I put my hand on his elbow anyway, and follow he and his lady-friend back to their wagon. The wine is a delicious combination of two kinds of Monster drinks and Mountain Dew Voltage. I smile after my first sip. So does Lox and his lady.

"Tell me your name again, darling? You are now my wife number eleven."

I had accidentally married an AB&C gypsy.

ISN'T THAT SOMETHING TO TELL THE NEWBIES IN THE SAFETY TRAINING COURSE?! THAT IF YOU DRINK THE GYPSY WINE YOU'RE AUTOMATICALLY MARRIED?!

Anyway, the guy tells me that as the wife of a gypsy, I have to stay by his side for the rest of the weekend and, if I don't decide on changing my race to human and becoming an ACTUAL gypsy, I'd have to work in his brothel.

Luckily, the gypsies have pretty clothing and awesome accents, so I was considering joining their clan anyway. :D

Here is how my gypsy husband introduced me to the accent. Repeat after me. This sentence has every sound you will need to utilize in your gypsy career. Vould joo ly-eek tyoo brrraid mai neepulls? (Roll the R in braid.) And yes, I did just make you say that.

Wife #10 tells me she once dated a sex advisor.

I will never look at pineapples and pickles the same way.

Needless to say, we get rather close, gypsy wife #10 and I, and she says that the gypsies have the best time out of anyone (in her opinion). She says that there are only a handful here this time, but if I come back next month, there could be upwards of 14. I say, hot dog, and agree to return. (I'm secretly having a lot of fun already.)

Here is a low-down on a few of the awesome gypsy curses I'll get to use. Gypsy curses last until the character dies. Or kills himself. (Hehehe.)

Level 1: You cannot lie to a gypsy.
Level 3: Fumble fingers! Everything you pick up, you drop.
Level 4: Stuttering.
Level 5: You cannot attack a gypsy.
Level 10: You disintegrate in one hour - with no chance of being healed.

Eventually, it is midday on Friday. We jump in the car. I feel gross - it occurs to me I haven't showered in two days. Boy and his friends mull over becoming gypsies themselves. I say absolutely not, and promptly fall asleep.

The. End. :D