My Career Low

A few weeks ago my friend Ben asked me to help him on a project.

This is a true story.

He needed me to be an on camera comic host for a Bat Mitzvah he was shooting.  ”You’ll be perfect” Ben said.  ”I don’t have a lot to pay you, but you won’t want to miss this event.  It’s going to be epic”

He was right.  This Bat Mitzvah was for the daughter of a very wealthy business man here in town.  You’d know who he was if I told you, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the budget for this party was over $200,000.

The kids arrived on tour busses.  There were huge spot lights waving around in the sky out front. Inside there was a stage with 2 deejays, big video screens, and lots of robotic lights and lasers.   There were professional dancers and a host from MTV.  A Beatles cover band even made an appearance before the night ended.

Oh, and it was a black-tie event.  I’m pretty sure that means you have to wear a tux, but I find this to be a confusing description.  I feel like it should be called a “black everything but your shirt” event.  None-the-less, I showed up in a t-shirt.

“It’s okay” Ben said as he handed me my microphone and my costume.

“I have to wear a costume?” I thought to myself.  It was a big purple suit.  Don’t think “Barney.”  Think “Sinbad.”

Whatever.  I was  there to help Ben, and I was positive there wouldn’t be anyone there that I know.

“Hey! Are you Tripp?”  A woman said to me as soon as I walked through the front entrance.

“No…  I’m Tyler.”

“I love your videos! You guys are so funny!” she said.  I know what she was really thinking, “So this is what he does for an actual job.”

I was embarassed, but I sucked it up and went on my way.

The first hour of the night went surprisingly well.  I felt good about my interviews, and people played along well with my antics.  Then something weird happened.

A woman in her 40′s started walking towards me from across the room.  She was moving at a brisk pace, and her eyes were locked in on mine.  I felt like I was about to get in trouble for something.  These are the exact words she said to me:

“That guy over there is a doctor.  I am a psychotherapist.  And, you are acting like a narcotics addict.  Are you on heroine?”

“Me?” I asked.

“Yes.  Are you okay?  You are acting like you are high.”

“No ma’am.  The way I’m acting during my interviews is part of my act. I’m a comedian”

She looked at me straight faced as if she was thinking, “A comedian…. yes.  I’ve heard of those”

“Are you okay?” She asked again.

I did everything anyone wearing a purple suit could do to convince her that I wasn’t on drugs and that is was my job to act like I wasn’t listening when I asked people questions.

Now, my night was ruined, because I knew fifteen minutes wouldn’t go by before everyone in that place was instructing their kids to stay away from the high guy with the microphone.

“Are we done?” I asked Ben.

“Almost.” He answered. “I just need you to change.”

I was about to thank God.

“Into this” he continued.  Ben was holding up white pleather Evil Knievel suit with an attached cape.

“Haha. Very funny!” I said.

“No, I really want you to put this on and do a few more interviews”

I slumped my shoulders, went to the bathroom, and changed.  Not only was this an Evil Knievel suit, but it was three sizes too small.  You could see at least an inch of shin hair between the white bell-bottom and my black sock.  And, the seam between my crotch and my shoulders needed about a foot more of material.  I had choice.  I could either be Evil Knievel, the hunchback or stand up straight and be Evil Knievel, the sausage smuggler.

I was hoping this would be the most humble point of my career in comedy as I walked through the sea of people looking for Ben.  I wondered what everyone in their cocktail dresses and tux’s were thinking as a too-tall Evil Knievel was weaving his way through a tightly packed group of 12 year olds.  If the guys who drive ice-cream trucks really are good people, then I know what they feel like.

After an eight minute search, I found Ben.  These were his exact words:

“Oh yeah man, we’re going to do something else.  I don’t need you to wear that anymore.”

I didn’t know if I was mad or relieved.

“I need you to put on this bunny suit.”

I knew by now that he wasn’t kidding and since I was being paid as his employee I had to do it.  But there’s no way I was going all the way back to the bathroom.  Narcotic Nancy is for sure convinced by now that I’m also a child molester.

So I changed back stage. It was a complete bunny suit with feet, a tail, a huge head with ears, and eye holes that were at least eight inches apart. I could hear through them better than I could see through them.  In order to walk I had to look to the side, memorize three or four steps, and then move.

Whatever.  I knew this night couldn’t get any worse.  Right?

As soon as I walked out from behind the curtain, I felt someone grab my arm.  It was the MTV guy, and he started yelling into my eye hole.   “Can you do the Cupid Shuffle?”

“No. I can’t even walk in this” I yelled back.

He must not have heard me, because he  pulled me with him up three stairs onto the stage.  I was surrounded by professional dancers, and there were hundreds of people watching me.   I really had no idea what was going on, so I started doing something that loosely represented the Macarena.  At least this time no one could see who I was.  I thought, “Maybe if I just close my eyes and daydream about being back home in my bed it will all be over before I know it.”

Then something happened that I can’t explain.

I don’t even know how to say it, except to say that a group of kids bum rushed the stage and beat the living hell out of me.  There was one on my back.  Another grabbed my wooden cane and starting taking swings at my shoulders.  Someone else was boxing me between the legs.  All I could do was crumble to the ground.

This was my career low.  I was on stage in front of the who’s-who of Atlanta dressed as a rabbit getting brutally assaulted by a bunch of pre teens.  Could it get any worse?

Yes I could.  And it almost did.  Two young boys began to pull at my ears in hopes of ripping off my fake head.  I’m not kidding when I say this.  I would have rather gone home with three broken ribs than be identified on that stage.  So, I stopped blocking all the punches and held on to my rabbit face with every ounce of strength I had left.   They pulled me all the way across the stage before I was rescued by an adult – an adult that could have done something five minutes earlier.  I guess I would have watched too.

I made my way back stage again, and I could feel myself trampling over cables and boxes.  But I didn’t care.  I wanted out of that suit, and I wanted my mommy.  I scrambled around as fast I could to find my real clothes, and just as found them….

Pshzzzeeeeuuuwwwwwwww…..

Everything went black.  And quiet.

I knew exactly what happened, because I felt it under my giant furry foot.  I had stepped on a cable that was attached to something important.  The entire event was now without power.  No music.  No moving lights. No Deejays.  No party.  Now I’m really in trouble.

I quickly changed back into my clothes, and I could hear AV guys shouting cuss words in every direction.  One of them found me behind the curtain.

“Did you unplug something?” He asked in a very concerned tone.

I lied, and then I ran.

By the time I made it around to the back of the room the lights came back on.  I was laughing as I thought about the whole event.  At least I’m back in my t-shirt, and no one knew that was me in the bunny suit.

I felt a tap on my shoulder.  It was the lady who recognized me earlier.

“Great job in the bunny suit!” She said.