And if you were in armor, it was even more entertaining.
Take for instance the castle battle, where gusty winds and the freakiest thunder storm got the best of us. By the time we made it into camp, we were drenched like drowned rats, and we had to thank the patron saint of gambesons for providing at least some relief, keeping most of the water away from our skins.
So as soon as I get to camp I peel off the armor, ditch the gambeson, get down to my Underarmor, and sit down at our table under the common dayshade while the storm rages on and the winds keep howling more and more.
That's when we notice that there is a small pop-up tent in the next camp, and that whomever is inside is hanging on for dear life, trying to prevent the little guy to roll away like a tumbleweed by leaning over the walls. By then, the stakes have pulled off the ground, which has turned into a lovely puddle of mud.
You get the picture.
"Yo!" I yell. "Do you need any help?"
"Yes, please!" says the guy. "Can you please hammer back those stakes? It would be very helpful."
"Sure!" I say. Heck, I had gotten wet on my way to the camp already. Getting more drenched should not be a big deal, and this time I'm not wearing a gambeson but my trusty battle shirt. It's Underarmor so, who cares if it gets wet? We have plenty of towels. What can go wrong?
Well, I go out there and it is like stepping into a very cold shower. The rain is unrelenting and we can barely hear each other yelling over the noise and the thunder. Luckily, we had a hammer in camp and I had the stakes firmly hammered down in no time, and a very happy camper finally able to relax as opposed to freaking out in the wind.
After he yells his thanks, and I yell back "No prob!" I walk back into our camp.
That's when everyone starts laughing.
You see, I had stripped down to my Underarmor.
Which is now drenched white Underarmor.
And you know what happens with drenched white underwear.
If we had been running a white chemise contest, I would have won. Hands down. (Or something else down. Or whatever.)
Someone tosses me a towel and a cloak and I cover myself.
I have now learned a valuable lesson: If you're gonna go out to save the world, make sure you are wearing proper underwear.
Preferably not white.
Preferably not wet.
Either that, of submit your picture to Playboy and suggest a pictorial of "The Women of the SCA," or something like that.
Or wear your gambeson.
Maybe not Playboy material, but you will avoid flashing your entire camp, and that will save a lot of money in therapy sessions to the rest of the world.
(Or maybe only to you, but you get the idea.)
Next time: Holding Court during a tornado watch.