Tag: Costume

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The Parade

I flattened the little kid. I walked into her full stride and knocked her to the pavement. As she lay there stunned, I bent down to help her up. All the while trapped inside my Pig-From-The-House-Of-Straw costume.

Some friends and I had signed up to be in the local town parade. We were assigned the “Three-little-pigs” and the “Big-bad-wolf” costumes. We got into the fluffy costumes, affixed the oversized heads, and took our assigned place in the parade line-up. Always a crowd-pleaser, we would chase each other around and make exaggerated huffing and puffing antics all along the parade route.

Wearing a giant pig costume is not as easy as it looks. For starters, the costume smelled AWFUL. You perspire like crazy in those things, as did the people who wore them before you. With the affixed head, there is very little air circulation. So basically you are walking a parade route in the sun in a fuzzy, sealed plastic bag full of sweat. Not pleasant.

Secondly, the parade route itself is not so straightforward. There was a marching band in front of us and a motorized float behind us (ironically, given that we were dressed as pigs, the float was promoting the local vegetarian club. True). We had to beware of all the stopping and starting lest we crash into the band or get run over ourselves by the float. And with many horses and carriages involved, lets just say there were a lot of “leavings” along the parade route. A lot.

Finally, the visibility out of the costume is near zero. We could only see through a screen in the pigs nostrils. We were constantly straining to see one another, keeping an eye out for leavings, the band, and the float. That’s where the kid comes in.

She probably loved the Three Little Pigs. Who can blame her? So she broke ranks from the roadside crowd and ran to give me a hug. With no peripheral vision, I never saw her coming. WHAMMO. Down she went with a pork knuckle to her chest.

Of course I was horrified. I bent over to help her up. She freaked out. Again, who could blame her? The giant pig that just flattened her was now towering above her, unable to communicate through a stupid costume that smelled of sweat and horse urine. From one nostril I could see the horrified mother. From the other, the father encouraging me to just move along. Which I did, in haste.

When I got home my father had taped the parade on our VCR. As fate would have it the incident occurred in front of the TV tower where they filmed the parade. The commentary went something like this:  “Well Ben, here come those rascally little pigs and the big bad wolf. Always a crowd fave… Good heavens…. Did that pig just….I believe it was the House of Straw…Oh dear… I hope she’s OK…

I hope so too.

 

[If you know others who might enjoy a lighthearted story to begin their week, kindly forward them WordsfortheWeary. The more the merrier.]

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The King

He took a deep breath. Then against his better judgement, my brother walked into the Managing Director’s office wearing a professional-grade Elvis impersonator suit. What happened next was most unexpected.

For context, our family does own a high-end Elvis impersonator suit: rhinestones, bell-bottoms, wig, faux gator-skin shoes, cape, rings. The whole deal. Every family needs one.

I purchased the suit in San Francisco. I needed it for a play I was in while living overseas. On my last day in town I asked my friend, a San Francisco native, “Are there any shops around here where I might purchase an Elvis costume?” He looked at me with a mix of surprise and disappointment. Such a dumb question.

With a roll of his eyes he speed-dialed a costume shop. “Ramone”, he said. “I need an Elvis costume right away”. There was silence on our end as Ramone responded.

“No…”, said my friend as he looked at me and winked, “…probably more the sweaty, pudgy comeback years.” Ouch. Guilty as charged.

We headed to the shop and I purchased the costume. It saw good service in the play.

Years later, working in Washington, DC, I brought the costume out of retirement. It was Halloween. I changed into the suit in my office and walked around my floor at work handing out candy. It was that sort of workplace. Frankly, it has been that sort of career.

By contrast, my brother worked at a high-octane DC law firm just up the street. We met for lunch and I mentioned my morning Halloween Elvis escapade. He got a glint in his eye. He walked back with me to my office and borrowed the costume.

And so it came to be that my brother suited up as The King and delivered candy throughout his law firm to people billing $1,000 per hour for legal services. The other attorneys were stunned, bemused, horrified. One actually asked him, “Is this being done on billable time?” Then my brother went for it.

The King took the elevator up to the top floor where the Managing Director had his palatial corner office. My brother approached the receptionist. She looked at him and said “You are either on the fast track to being a partner, or he is going to fire your ass”. My brother said “Thankyaverymush” and then gave her some candy.

He knocked on the Managing Director’s door and entered, singing out “Trick or Treat!” in a deep Elvis voice. Time stood still. Then the partner leapt from his desk and exclaimed with glee, “NO WAY!” It turns out, and nobody knew this, he was a huge Elvis fan. He got several selfies taken with The King. Then my brother returned to obscurity within the bowels of the firm. But not before he became a legend.

 

[If you know someone else who might enjoy a lighthearted story to begin their week, kindly forward them the link to WordsfortheWeary. The more the merrier.]

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Halloween – 06/11/2017

Things went bad one Halloween when my niece pooped in her lion costume. She was only two, so what are you going do? But the outfit is a one-piece, necessitating a messy and difficult extraction even for veteran parents. My sister-in-law was forced to do an emergency pit-stop in our living room to initiate the clean-up.

We were also joined by a dear family member who has dementia. In the face of this horrible disease, our family has treasured moments of levity as they come along. Such it was to be this Halloween.

When the doorbell rang the family member would instinctively open the door. She would then stand there silent, confused by the throngs of costumed children. But the moment someone yelled “trick or treat”, recognition would radiate across her face. Her eyes sparkled as she would exclaim with surprise and enthusiasm, “Why, it must be Halloween!”  Finding the candy bowl, she would dish out liberal portions to the kids, and then help herself to a chocolate bar.

This cycle repeated itself dozens of times throughout the evening. Each group of trick-or-treaters was a brand new experience for her: doorbell, confusion, recognition, an enthusiastic exclamation of “Why, it must be Halloween!”, and then another chocolate bar. She must have eaten 20 before the night was through.

At one point our pre-teen daughter arrived back from trick or treating, dragging with her a pack of pre-teen girls engaged in pre-teen drama. They had elected to go out together all dressed as pieces of fruit. Apparently the banana had teased the apple about some part of her costume. The apple began to cry. Then the banana felt guilty, so she began to cry. Then the grape blamed the cherry for not stepping into the fray. So the entire fruit bowl began to cry. All the while said family member was circulating in the midst of the weeping fruit, dishing out candy while gleefully consuming yet another chocolate bar.

As my niece slipped back into her lion costume her older brother, dressed as the Pope, managed to catch his finger in our screen door. So at one moment in time our living room boasted a screaming pope, my sister-in-law trying to contain the fallout, weeping tween-age fruit, my beleaguered wife, a niece dressed as a lion who smelled like some unholy combination of stale poop and sugar, and a family member with dementia and an ear-to-ear grin, vibrating from excess chocolate consumption.

The very next batch of kids to ring the doorbell saw the chaotic throng in our living room. They decided the party must be inside, so in they came! I hope that everyone had a great Halloween this year!

 

[If you know others who might enjoy a lighthearted story to begin their week, please feel free to forward them the link to WordsfortheWeary. The more the merrier!]