In the neon-lit parking lot of the Buena Park castle, a former queen leans against her 2016 Mazda 3, watching the illuminated sign of Medieval Times flicker against the night sky. Erin Zapcic, 43, spent 13 years playing royalty before the kingdom fell apart, and today she carries a different kind of crown – the weight of a nine-month strike that has gripped the themed restaurant chain.
The feudal fantasy that draws 2.5 million guests each year for a two-hour dinner-and-tournament show is now the backdrop for a labor showdown. Tickets cost $77.95, promising butter-soaked corn, chicken shanks and tomato bisque served by staff dressed as serfs and wenches, while knights on quarter horses joust for cheering crowds. Behind the fanfare, performers, stable hands and kitchen crews have been fighting for higher pay, safer conditions and recognition of alleged abuse.
Strike, union drive and legal battles
Inspired by the 1381 English uprising, Zapcic and former knight Jake Bowman rallied colleagues in 2022, demanding wages that reflected the region’s median household income of over $100,000. According to a filing with the National Labor Relations Board, stable-hand wages began at $16.75 an hour, while Bowman and Zapcic earned $18.50 and $21.50 respectively. The push for a union quickly escalated into a series of lawsuits, claims of sexual harassment and accusations of animal mistreatment, culminating in a nine-month strike that crippled operations at the Buena Park location.
Although the union ultimately dissolved, the fallout was severe: many workers were labeled trouble-makers, faced hazing or were forced out. The legal disputes continue, with former staff filing complaints that the company retaliated after they reported safety hazards or sought accommodations for injuries sustained on the job.
Working conditions and physical toll
Performers describe a schedule that can exceed 40 hours a week, with two or three shows on weekends and frequent double-shifts. The arena’s sand-filled floor and staged combat demand athleticism comparable to professional sport, yet there is no off-season. Former knight Bryce Keizer likens the grind to “a professional sport, but there’s no offseason.” Injuries are common: stable hand Sidney Setzer lost 35 pounds in 11 months, and former cast manager William Hainsworth broke his leg in front of 800 spectators after a horse collided with a wall at roughly 35 mph. Hainsworth later sued, alleging the injury and subsequent termination were retaliation for reporting the danger.
Even the queen herself has felt the physical strain. Zapcic recalled a 2021 fall from a horse that caused a painful hematoma, an incident referenced in Hainsworth’s lawsuit. Such injuries often come with limited financial compensation, leaving many employees dependent on food-stamp assistance or living out of their cars.
From Spanish seaside fairs to American castles
The brand’s origins trace back to the 1960s on Mallorca, where restaurateur Jose Montaner transformed his family farm into a barbecue joint that later incorporated a medieval-themed indoor show. Inspired by the 1961 film El Cid, Montaner blended English fair pageantry with Californian restaurant ambiance, eventually opening the first U.S. castle in Orlando in 1983. Ten castles now span North America, each promising a “live-action time machine” to the Middle Ages, while the company remains family-run, with Montaner’s son Perico serving as CEO.
Employees claim the corporate hierarchy mirrors a monarchy; the owners “think they’re actual medieval lords,” says former cast manager William Hainsworth. Job postings explicitly reserve the knight role for men to “preserve authenticity,” even though historical records show women did fight in medieval combat. This gender policy, combined with reports of misogyny and homophobia in locker rooms, has fueled tension beyond wage disputes.
Voices from the arena
“When you work at Medieval Times, it becomes part of your identity,” Zapcic explains, reflecting on the deep connection performers feel to their roles. Yet the same devotion drove her to speak out: “I loved my job. But I couldn’t stand by while they mistreated us and the animals.” Her words capture the paradox of a fantasy workplace that can quickly turn into a battlefield for real-world rights.
The saga of the nine-month strike, the lawsuits and the ongoing accusations of animal abuse and sexual harassment underscores how a seemingly whimsical dining experience can conceal serious labor issues. As the castles continue to welcome patrons, the fight for safer conditions, fair wages and respect for the staff remains far from resolved.
