I’ve been working on my Halloween costume. It’s a little bit tricky, because I’m trying something new. I’m not wearing a costume this year as much as stepping into an identity... it’s a little hard to explain, and if I seem overly mysterious it’s because I don’t want to tell you exactly what I’m going to do just yet. I kind of want a “reveal” moment, and I have a little time left to keep working on it. Maybe I’ll have a little Halloween Special this year.
That would be fun. I already know the title of it.
A few years ago, the random lady on the street in my neighborhood called me an “elegant monster”.
She is not wrong.
That would be the name of my special. An Elegant Monster.
Oh, well, now I have to do it. It’s got a title and everything.
I’ve worn three pretty classic Halloween costumes.
My most dangerous costume was after college, when I lived in San Francisco and splurged on a full ninja outfit. San Francisco loved Halloween in the early 90’s, it seemed like everyone dressed up, no matter what age they were. There were literally thousands of people on the street wandering about Halloween night.
But I took a shortcut on the wrong side of Guerrero and guys started coming up to me wanting to fight. I’d walked this way before and nobody’d ever stepped to me looking for West Side Story action.
“Hey, ninja, let’s see what you got!” they called out, or “Hey man, you a real ninja?”.
Now, let’s be honest, if I was a real ninja you wouldn’t see me at all. I’d be deadly shadows, an invisible master killer… I certainly wouldn’t be buying a Dr. Pepper at this bodega. But things got tense, there was adventure and some shooting, it became a whole thing.
I’d never had to take responsibility for a costume before. It was like I’d dressed as a doctor and suddenly somebody dragged me in to do surgery.
The costume I wanted most when I was a kid was a full head werewolf mask with hair. Lots of hair. You could put it on and it would be your entire costume, because back then the special effects hadn’t been invented to turn people into actual giant wolves in the movies, just folks in regular clothes (with lots of hair).
My mother didn’t think this was appropriate for an eleven year old, but when I was thirteen she allowed me to buy it with “my own money” from my own job at the bookstore. I did wear it trick or treating (at the mall, not in the neighborhood, saints preserve us, that would be dangerous) and discovered that it was a portable mini-sauna. I kept it on that night until my head felt like it had lost a few pounds, but wore it randomly for years at home, while cleaning my room or reading a book.
[Side note: I was a panel speaker for a national diversity and inclusion event at CNN (not on air) and they asked us each to begin with our name and something about our background and identity.
I said, “My name is Jd Michaels. I’m a werewolf.” then passed the mic.
The next speaker cautiously passed it back to me.
“What?” I asked the crowd. “Look, I’m fine now, the full moon’s not for 18 days, but isn’t it interesting that you view me differently? When I walk into a room, it’s assumed that I’m naturally carrying this raw deadly rage, even though I’m smiling and wearing a suit. People don’t even listen to what I’m saying half the time because they’re too preoccupied waiting for the wolf. Because they’re afraid of wolves, and think that this is just a disguise, even though I’ve never done anything angry, violent, or ambivalent. See, it’s not my actions I’m judged by, it’s my percieved potential. But I know we’re all friends here, right? None of you could be called a lycanthropist.” and I passed the mic again.
There was applause, and one lady started crying, and the organizer looked super freaked out. Best Halloween ever, except, y’know, it wasn’t Halloween.]
My best Halloween costume was the one I never got to wear.
When I was eight years old, I was invited to Kenneth Herrera’s birthday / Halloween party. I wanted to dress as “The Human Torch” from Fantastic Four.
To prepare, I -
• collected information on fire safety from the library
• called long distance from Kansas City, Kansas to Los Angeles, California to speak with the stunt department at Universal Studios (I told them it was a school assignment; as my voice dropped early, they actually patched me through and answered most of my questions)
• completed several levels of test runs on my homemade protection suit design with the bunsen burner from my Gilbert chemistry set; first using my Captain Kirk action figure, and then my index finger.
The plan was to ring the front doorbell, then when Kenneth opened the door yell “Flame on!” at which point my mom would ignite my flame suit, prompting a 7 second full burn after which she would douse me with an extinguisher – not a foam one (because that would get all over their porch) but a CO2 one, which would double as an excellent fog cover for me to zip OUT of the flame suit and protective layering, revealing bright red pajamas (my indoor costume) underneath.
My mother taught 5th grade GT. I knew this might be a hard sell.
Sure enough, she refused to let me set myself ablaze, not even “just for a minute”: full stop. She did, however, appreciate the written proposal, extensive research, and mini-demonstration, and as a compromise she taught me to how to use the sewing machine while making me a (non-flammable) Golden Age SHAZAM costume instead.
I had even written a note and signed it, giving her express permission for the whole thing so she wouldn’t get into any trouble, but she pointed out to me later (when I was 27 years old) that a handwritten note from an eight year old would not have stood up in court, and if she had allowed this to happen I would certainly have grown up in another household having been only allowed Sunday and holiday visits with her. Excellent parenting on her part.
She also described, in detail, what the reaction of the Herrera family would have been the sight of a flaming little black kid on their porch. Perversely, I kinda would have liked to have seen that.
Their neighbors would have talked for days.
Grr. Arrgh.