Behind the Mask

We got up early-for-a-Saturday today to hit the 25¢ paperback sale at the library, and came home with a couple dozen books (so much for that equilibrium thing I mentioned last post). I also misled Mrs. Cat about where I wanted to get lunch so I could pilot the Catmobile over to the local Comic store to check out the Free Comic Book Day selections. Didn’t pick up anything off the free table, but I did get the next issue of “Preacher” on sale, which I’d been idly meaning to pick up for a while.

I was wandering through the shop (sideways, because every comic shop I’ve ever visited is small, crammed with shelving, and is overflowing with both merchandise and the fanboys that love it), looking at the panorama of titles available. The covers were near-universally somber in color and dramatic in tone, promising thrills, action, titillation, and escape. I stood there, looking at the panoply of heroes and villains, each with their own quest, their own drive, their own powers and flaws, and something resonated within me. See…I understand why the more popular characters adopt alter egos and include masks with their costumes, because I once dressed up as a chicken for a local trade show.

I’m so tempted to just leave it at that.

I was a freshman in high school. I don’t even remember what the trade show was for, but one of our church members was going to be there selling his fried chicken, and asked the Youth Pastor if any of our group would wear the suit and bring people in to the booth. $10 an hour? Under the table? Sign me up.

I got to the Civic Center early, and retrieved a surprisingly heavy box from the restaurant’s booth. The costume was freshly cleaned, which I didn’t really appreciate at the time. Having done costume work on two other occasions since then, I know now how much of a treat that was. Costumes get funky after a couple hours, and if you don’t at least air them out before you pack them away, you edge into biohazard territory.

I was in one of the dressing rooms in the back of the Center, trying to figure out how to attach everything so the weight of the costume would be evenly distributed and both my heads would stay on straight. It was a full-body costume that stood about seven feet tall, and the head was attached to a frame that rested on my shoulders. It had a stiff piece of cloth – similar to that in a fencing mask – built in behind the open mouth so I could see out. While I adjusted and fidgeted, I was wondering if $10 an hour was a good price for pride and self-image.

The last zipper closed, and I examined the result in the mirrors.

I was invisible. The costume covered me completely, and even the visual port in the mouth was woven so that you couldn’t see through to the real face inside.

I stood there for a few moments, awash in the realization that, apart from the owner of the restaurant, no one at the show would know who I was. All hesitation and self-doubt disappeared. I was free to act however I chose – within the boundaries of good taste, of course – and there would be no reprisals.

I cavorted; I mocked; I postured. I acted silly with children. I pantomimed increasingly bizarre situations with the merchandise on display (it was a boat and RV/camper show, I just recalled), and flirted with the booth bunnies. I had a grand ol’ time.

I remember seeing some guys from my school come in. They were part of the “cool kids” clique and while not really bullies, didn’t make life any easier for me and the other nerds. I hesitated at first out of habit, but then remembered my power of invisibility, and proceeded to harass them for a good ten minutes, pulling old Harpo Marx slapstick moves, “biting” the tops of their heads, and stealing their hats. It was liberating. I remember a change in their attitude towards me in school after that, because mine had changed towards them, but I may be looking backwards through John Hughes-colored glasses.

I forget which author said in reference to the Peter Parker/Spiderman dichotomy (I’m paraphrasing): Do the relatively few moments I get to kick ass as Spiderman make up for all the crap I have to take as the nebbish, Peter?

The answer is yes.

There are myriad reasons to put on a mask – protect your social standing or your loved ones, confuse your enemies or illustrate a theme. But the underlying reason is that it frees you from constraint and increases the sphere in which you can act. For good or ill is up to you.

Because with great chicken costumes comes great responsibility.