Masks

Once upon a time I relished costume parties. Not for the 'party' per se, i.e., the carousing, the drunkenness, the vomiting, the careless acts which lead to regret the next day, etc, but it was an opportunity to play... an opportunity to be silly on the outside and for once to grab attention for myself, to break outside of the usual quiet shell I wear in spite of myself.

I normally skipped parties in college, the debauchery not my thing (even less then), but Halloween was special. There, for years at least, I was actually competitive, in my own passive way. I'd not just pull something out of thin air, but would dwell on what would be the 'perfect' outfit for me that year... what would be sort of a hidden 'it' costume for that year... what could exhibit what skill I had with makeup, with throwing together costume pieces, etc. I always wanted to be something different than the usual that others would see. I wanted to get the attention.

I remember, during the long hair years, being Rum Tum Tugger from 'Cats', a Klingon, Edward Scissorhands (it took days for me to untangle my hair from that one), and Captain Marvel (with a ponytail). With that last one, photos of which are in an earlier post in September, I'd wanted to do 'Beast' from the Disney film that had opened that year. While good, unfortunately I lost social 'oomph' by going with a somewhat obscure comic book hero. I should have gone with the Disney. It would have rocked. Oh, and only ONE picture was taken of my Edward, unfortunately lost years ago. With that one I stayed in character most of the evening, I think. Folks brought that one up to me for months afterward.

After college, no one I knew seemed to care about costume parties. A sad time. Eventually I threw my own, dressing as the pulp hero 'The Shadow' (putty nose, oversized fedora, red scarf and all), but honestly, I'm not a party thrower. I'm more of a 'have a few people over for a quiet gettogether' sort of guy. Not good makings for costume parties, that sort. It was a lackluster time, truly, but at least I got to wear a costume again.

More years went by and after returning to KSU in '04 I'd been invited to a student's party at the last minute. I went to Wal-Mart, spent half an hour with a hot glue gun and craft foam, and went as 'Commando Chicken'... a creation of my own. It freaked a lot of people out initially, 'cause no one knew who I was. That, and the chicken mannerisms and noises that I picked up from my intense study of the fowl creatures during my lonely youth on the farm.

In '05 I went to school as Erik Teague, one of our department's students with a penchant for tattoos, anything black, chains, and mohawks (then, though, his full head of hair was merely colored green in places). Unbeknownst to him, of course. I showed up just as his class was letting out for lunch and rounded the corner, hoping to surprise him with the honor of my imitation of his particular traits, only to find him... wearing a 'Kenyon' costume: Dark, deep, solid colored shirt, khakis, hair "just right" with a lock or two hanging down over the forehead... and a Superman shirt underneath. Completely coincidental, our choices were, but completely wonderful.

This year, Erik, a two time national award winning costume designer himself, threw a 'Halloween Hootenanny' at his place. I wasn't going to go, now age differences compounding the discomfort and awkwardness I usually feel at large parties, but knew that it'd mean a lot to him since he'd asked so often if I'd be able to make it. And I'd be able to wear a costume again.

I'd decided to be a zombie since I've been reading so much about them recently in 'The Walking Dead' (a killer comic book... pun intended, tee, hee), The Zombie Survival Guide, World War Z, etc. Oh, but not just any zombie. Mine was a technical director (me, o'course) who'd been working in a sceneshop only to have an ill secured sawblade sling out and impale his chest... just at the moment that the dreaded Zombie Apocalypse took place.

I walked in and got a few great scares right off the bat... not the "BOO" type, but the slow, shambling, 'Ohmygodhesnotstopping' type. It helped that Erik is said to have a phobia of zombies, but it's one that a number of friends of his are bound and determined to help him overcome (primarily by assaulting him with good, entertaining zombie literature). Staying in character for a few minutes, I stumbled around, grasping, groping, not quite biting (the sawblade in my sternum was a constant frustration in keeping me from getting in close to do any sort of munching), and generally doing what any good zombie would do at a costume party. James, Erik's roommate and landlord, was prepared: He chained me up in the corner next to the door in order, I believe, that I could 'greet' anyone that came in. Fun times for a while, lots of squeals once the guests realized this thing crawling towards them would not stop...

I eventually after an hour or so once the youngsters began to sort of ramp up their shenanigans and I couldn't walk around without the fear of ripping other's costumes on my REAL sawblade chestpiece. Long enough, though, for Erik to have awarded me the unofficial Best Single Costume award.

'I still got it, babe!