| L.O.O.P.E.D. Bio |
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| Name: |
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| Tom Levesque |
| Faire Name: |
| Thomas Kellett |
| Age: |
| 31 |
| First year of Faire: |
| 1985 |
| First Faire Attended: |
| Northern at Black Point Forest |
| Birthplace: |
| Sacramento, California |
| Web Page: |
| Puppys
Crappy Construction Page |
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| What interested you in faire: |
| I
got into Faire because I was brought there by some members of what at the
time was St. Brigid's guild. I hung around this couple named Scott &
Nancy Church. We used to play games on the weekends, and I frequented their
B.B.S. called Alpha Omega 80. So they basically said 'Tom, you're going'.
They sent me out shopping for some kung-fu shoes, and I dyed a set of white
socks using tea. They loaned me a scottish costume that Scotts brother
owned. And off I went at the impressionable age of 15! For the rest of
the story, read my favorite faire story. I dug around, recently, and turned
up a photo. This was taken late on Sunday night when I got home after living
at Faire all weekend. I was totally exhausted, and my brain was scrambled
with old english and scottish accents. Note the scrawny knees which my
father always laughs at. But you should see him in shorts |
| Your favorite faire Is/Was: |
| My
favorite faire is Valhalla in Tahoe. The setting is so perfect. The tall
pine trees make me feel like I'm in Sherwood Forest, and the weather adds
to the feel. I went there in 1998 with Brad, and had a blast. Standing
there talking to some archers (possibly St. Andrews?) we heard the booming
sound of thunder. The Faire folks cheered it on. Looking at a distant hill,
I could see a big dark cloud rolling across the sky towards us. Sure enough,
within 10 minutes there was a downpour that brought the faire almost to
a halt. For Valhalla I recommend, nay I insist on you bringing a cloak.
Or at least bring a waterproof jacket or poncho. But stick it out even
if it rains or snows! That will prove to be the best part of your trip |
| Your favorite memory of faire is: |
| My
favorite memory of faire is what we call 'Knockers of York'. It was the
end of the last day at Blackpoint Forest in 1998, and things got pretty
wild. Two ladies from the Bangers of York booth that we frequented (we
frequented the booth, not the ladies) climbed onto the roof of their booth,
quite enebriated. One decided to start showing her wares, as it were, for
coins. She quickly attracted a small crowd of lusty men, cheering her on
(okay, it was me and Jerry). Other favorite memories include being hog-tied,
feeding pretzels to people with pierced tongues, Eating Tony's patented
bits o'steak, and the Twilziwop men singing It's a Small World. I also
look back fondly on the water fight I got into with St. Helena's guild.
It taught me to not get into a water fight without a replinishable water
source |
| Worst faire memory is: |
| My
worst faire memory is losing my wallet on the last day at Northern in 1997.
I had been eyeing all kinds of costume goodies all year, and had saved
up. I planned on haggling, which you can do a lot more on the last day.
But I had the misfortune of dropping my wallet in the garage at home while
leaving in the morning. The good part was that I found my wallet when I
got home. But the bad part was, I lacked my cash, and atm cards and identification.
Nobody wanted to take my checks, and my credit card that I had with me
wouldn't work right. I think my friends were ready to kill me as a humanitarian
effort by the end of that day. But I eventually found a shirtmaker (bless
her heart!) who took my check and even gave me a discount. My other worst
faire memories are having Boink attempt to show me ALL of his piercings,
and losing my ticket because I tried to enter faire with alcohol in my
mug |
| Any favorite faire tales you'd like to share: |
| I have many memories from Ren Faire. Favorite
Faire tale is the story about the dragon. Okay, so my friend Nancy Church
dragged me to my first faire. Her husband was being a cranky weenie, and
at the last minute said he wasn't going. So we made the drive to Novato
in the darkness of Friday night, and set up our tent in the parking lot.
I didn't have a clue where I was, really. I remember the stars, and the
quiet, and the moonlight shining on the hills of Blackpoint. Nancy and
I crawled into the tent which we assembled next to her tiny car, and dozed
off. Somewhere around 3 a.m. we awoke with a start to a rumbling sound
and bright light. It sounded like a sherman tank was about to run us over.
I stuck my head out of the tent, disoriented and discovered a several ton
water truck soaking the ground between the rows of cars and tents. To this
day, I still wonder why they chose that hour to do this work. We went back
to sleep, and Saturday morning I stumbled around in my underwear until
we found a benevolant Scottish nobleman. He showed me how to put on my
kilt, and in return I became his paige boy for the weekend. He was a decent
guy, and I got to go on stage, always a few steps behind him. I discovered
that he liked me to smuggle pickles into his hands. There was some rule
about eating on-stage that we were breaking. Later on that day, I saw Nancy
chatting with some other people. She was telling this tale about having
encountered 'A fierce dragon with eyes bright like the sun, and it shot
water out of its mouth'. Not just acting, they all sincerely thought she
was out of her mind. They were prepared to have her exorcised or something
when I finally realized what she was talking about. I think this was the
moment when I can say I finally 'Got' what faire was all about. So I joined
in on the conversation and backed up her story. Eventually someone else
figured out were were talking about the water truck, and accusations of
drunkenness subsided
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