My Fascist Eating Experience

So, Greg's parents were very kind in taking me to the Tournament of Kings at the Excaliber Hotel and Casino in beautiful Las Vegas.

This was a belated birthday gift and I really did appreciate it. The tickets are $55 each and that includes dinner. Let's talk about the food first. Actually, let's talk about Greg's mother first. I call her the dairy queen. Before leaving, she made sure to put a ziploc full of butter in her purse as well as a ziploc full of ketchup. She heard that butter was not provided and being that she occasionally eats just plain butter, well that is just not acceptable. Who thinks of things like this before going out to dinner? This isn't the first time she's done it either.

So, dinner consisted of a small serving of tomato soup...oops I mean Dragon's Blood soup served in a little plastic bowl that you drink out of. Next comes a cornish game hen, cold broccoli, a slightly stale dinner roll, and three large freezer burnt potato wedges. All of this you eat with you hands. The cornish game hen was actually not bad and I don't like cornish game hen.

The beginning of the show consisted of Merlin and a small man showing the audience the proper way to cheer. I hate audience participation, let alone participation the requires pre-determined cheering. We were required to yell "Hazaa!" and raise our hands. We were required to pound the table with our hen-greased palms. We were required to raise our drinks, say "Hear, hear", take a sip and then say "ahhh". We were also required to cheer whenever our section was mentioned. We were sitted in "Hungary". Each section was given a king. Everyone cheered when their king was presented. When France was presented, the rest of the crowd (not in France) booed. I personally don't like Parisians, but the people that I met from Lyons were quite nice. I think the France-hating thing is old. A lot of people don't even know why they are suppose to hate France. Next come the wenches, obviously all former cheerleaders. They would stand in front of you and "encourage" everyone to cheer the correct cheers. It was like having your own private Nazi watch over you. If you didn't cheer, you were singled out and given a stern look. Then the kings had a tournament that included jousting. Interesting to note that the King of Russia was a cheater. He would hit people when they were down and pull dirty tricks. The winner was the King of France, to my personal satisfaction.

The kings whenever they rode or walked by their section would try to get their section to cheer. Our king, the King of Hungary, would just smile and shout "Hungary". I noticed that the King of Austria would look at his subjects and simply glare at them and wave his hand upwardly to get them shout louder. We had a good king even though he performed horribly in the tournament.

Then there was the King of Dragon, who wasn't in the Tournament. He could shoot fire from his hands and therefore was my favorite. He of course ended up being killed. We were reminded by our Nazi Cheerleaders to "boo" him at the appropriate times. Secretly, I was cheering for him though.

Then there were acrobats, a coronation, and some indoor fireworks to round the deal off.