Meals courses appear rhythmically, from the "stale bread" to the laughable tiny apple pastry that calls itself a dessert.
Celtic is in, and a Druid has less pressure to perform than the Greatest Magician of All Time. Instead, a "Druid" spiritually cleanses the fog-filled arena of evil spirits. Merlin no longer warms up the audience with his feeble smaller-than-life magic tricks. Once in the arena, the crowd settles in for two hours of horsemanship and chivalrous battle. All too soon, the exit appears, and your only recourse is to start drinking heavily. Mounted on the walls are torture instruments like the " Breast Pincers," and " The Pear." Most of the featured devices were used in some lurid way on victims' private parts. No attempt at accuracy or realism is made in the three small rooms that visitors traverse in single-file. The displays are half-baked torture tableaus featuring Halloween-grade decorative skeletons and lots of thick spray-on cobwebs. The museum, apparently mirrored at the other kingdoms, provide about three minutes of entertainment. Ticket-holders are issued crowns at the door, then photographed with a short costumed, bearded man - the King? The crowd accumulates in a set of large castle rooms, conveniently equipped with several bars, souvenir stands, Trace-Your-Heritage concessions, and a Torture Museum. The merchandising gauntlet is as fearsome as ever. The magic has faded a bit, partly due to MT's own stature as a tourism fixture, and the subsequent rise of hundreds of dinner theater and "eatertainment" options. Set in a sort of 11th century Spanish Camelot, the mealtime pageantry and Arthurian shtick has changed little. Color-coded paper crowns adorn the heads of visitors, who cheer on their favorite hued knights while eating without utensils. You probably know the routine, even if you haven't seen The Cable Guy.
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