Somehow, the rules got even more intrusive than that. Since the land our house was on was owned by the museum, the actual interior layout of our home had to be Colony-approved. Aside from the obvious rules about having a SNES sitting out where tourists can see it, our furniture had to look "18th century enough" to fool all the tourists occasionally peeking into our windows.

Humberto Moreno/Wiki Commons

As a result, I grew up on a street that had nonstop tourists going by and sometimes looking in. When I began visiting other friends at their houses, I was amazed that they left toys out in the open and didn't have to hide them. I just had this notion that we always had to hide things away from tourists.

Going to school even got a little weird. Buses wouldn't run into most of the historical parts of the colony, so I literally took a carriage to school like an American Girl doll.

People looking in was harmless enough, but things did get dangerous ... at least for the animals. I would frequently see guests try to feed them all sorts of things. Horses were huge targets; tourist after tourist tried to feed them totally inedible objects, such as plastic beads or wood, because they apparently thought horses were just enlarged goats.

Harvey Barrison/Wiki Commons

Slave auctions are, for whatever reason, another hot topic. To be clear, we have never reenacted any of those, but when the guests ask about them, the actors pretend as if there is an auction coming up and use it as a chance to discuss the emotional impact of being sold like livestock. It's pretty dark, but, like I said, Colonial Williamsburg is a museum, and nothing good ever came from pretending shameful acts of human cruelty never happened.

Where this took a turn for the terrible was when people, mostly children, would ask the "slaves" how much it would cost to buy them. This happens way more often than you would be comfortable thinking about. The "slave" actors in particular have a hard time with this -- because they're museum employees, they know what the factual answer is, but the whole point of the job is to be able to demonstrate how awful slavery was without being glib about it.

There is a silver lining, however. Many of the children making "offers" to buy the actors, especially the ones who aren't totally aware that it's all an act, do so because they want to set the actors free. So, as long as we teach kids to be like this, instead of training them to, I don't know, feed trash to horses, everything should turn out okay.

My job didn't require those kind of awkward exchanges, but I still had to interact with guests ...

First off, we had our own costume department through which all of the clothing was handmade. A ton of time and money went into it. I remember women's corsets having a two-year waiting period because they all had to be custom-made. As children, we had a file documenting our measurements and growth. because puberty is a costume designer's worst nightmare. So, yeah, my parents had to keep a bunch of costumers in the loop as I grew up.

Harvey Barrison/Wiki Commons

All of this was so that we could walk around acting like old-timey kids, turning us into unpaid performers (which absolutely seems like it's in violation of a bunch of child labor laws). For example, the museum would often put out exciting games for us such as lawn bowling, just so tourists could point at me and my friends and say, "Oooohhh, look at the time children!" and get their children to come play with us. The colonial higher-ups would bribe us with candy to play with tourist children for three hours at a time, but, sweet mother of Pocahontas, we were never bored. The tourist kids would play with us for a couple minutes before asking us where the gift shop was so that they could have their parents buy them their very own wooden toys to take home.

Colonial Williamsburg also puts on huge reenactments during the summer, with people portraying historical figures coming out to visit our town. It's all hands on deck, but, since real colonial children were little more than bred farmhands, we were just expected to be scenery during these big productions. We were told to walk up and down streets with our pet goats and/or chickens, or maybe just spin wool under a tent. Again, we weren't paid. But, since our parents did it, we had to pitch in, too.

So, why would a family decide to go through all of this?

Living history sites are run by people who love history and who are dedicated to making sure every single detail is historically accurate. This is another way of saying that anytime there was a project going on, everyone brought out their inner Stanley Kubrick. And 17th-century Stanley Kubrick is the Stanley Kubrickiest Stanley Kubrick there is.

For instance, all those animals the tourists feed garbage to? Colonial Williamsburg has a rare breeds program that has halted the extinction of several animals and reintroduced others that were around back in the days of wooden dentures and towns with five buildings in them. They brought in a shipment of Leicester Sheep from New Zealand (a breed that the colonists originally brought to America from the UK, but since died out), and, now, they are the only ones currently on the continent. They also brought back a few types of cows from the brink of nonexistence.

That's right -- we are so dedicated to historical accuracy that we essentially did a less-dangerous Jurassic Park operation. Some guests get confused that we aren't running a more traditional Old MacDonald-type farm, but we are simply keeping animals that Williamsburg settlers would have had.

It isn't just animals, either. We keep the cooper trade (the crafting of wooden utensils, casks, and barrels) alive, specifically the kind of cooper who isn't just making whiskey barrels. We have one of the few gunsmiths who still makes and repairs flintlock pistols -- he's currently got a backlog about five years long for handmade guns. We're home to one of the last silversmith programs in the United States. We even have our own movie studio of sorts -- Cold Mountain is one of more than a few major productions to have filmed at Colonial Williamsburg, because we maintain the colonial aesthetic so well (in exchange for small sacrifices like privacy and the ability to ride a bus to school).

So, if Hollywood ever decides to make a movie about, say, the 1700s, there's a place in Virginia for that.

Evan V. Symon is the interview finder guy for Cracked. Have an awesome experience/job YOU would like to see on Cracked? Hit up the tipline at tips@cracked.com, and fame and fortune could soon be yours!

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