Safety Fork, the

After I got back from the Renaissance Festival, I took a short nap, realized I had nothing around I wanted for dinner, and ordered a pizza. While I waited—about an hour; it was a busy night at Papa John’s, I guess—I started to feel genuinely sick.

It seemed odd that I would feel sick. I mean, the Renaissance Festival certainly wasn’t any more physically strenuous—probably less—for me than working at the State Fair earlier this month. Why should I feel worse? I thought about my symptoms (headache, short temper with inanimate objects, dizziness, queasy stomach) and asked myself, Self, what have you eaten today?

Oh, about seven cheese curds and a pickle.

Really, I had a good time looking around at capes and excellent top hats (from the purchase of both of which my sense of fiscal responsibility saved me), trying mead, and watching my friends fencing. But somehow, maybe confused by the anachronism, I was failed by my usually impeccable sense of lunch.

Note to self: in future, remember to eat.