Things at my house have begun to turn to the macabre. That is because we are sick, twisted people. It is also because we run a haunted house and this is the time of year we kick it into high gear to prepare for opening. New props are built, walls are painted, rooms are decorated, actors are located, you name it, we do it, in the name of all things unholy. We find ourselves running a bit behind due to life getting in the way (see previous blogs…) and we are running full force now trying to catch up things that should have been done months ago. Such is our life.
In the midst of all this chaos, our haunt participated in something called the Zombie Walk, in South Bend. Please understand, zombies do not walk. Rather, they shuffle. They shamble. They drag their feet. They meander as if they are on a ten day drunk and their ankles are shackled together. So Zombie 'Walk' seems a bit out of character to me. So be it. We went anyway.
This is a mini-convention of sorts, where people (weirdoes and other assorted nut-balls) get their zombie geek on. All sorts of people from all walks of life show up at the park dressed in full zombie regalia- torn clothes, missing limbs, full make-up and the like. It's pretty astounding to see. And, it's kind of awesome. (I have the pictures to prove it- who knew Tippi Hedren was going to turn out to be a zombie? Her birds too… Melanie Griffith is going to be so disappointed- not about the birds, about her zombie mother. It's gotta suck to have to decapitate your own mother. Though, some days, I think my kids could live with it…)
Anyway, the set up is pretty easy. As with other conventions, vendors have booths, in a marked off area just for them. Our own little hundred square feet of the acreage just for us. Wheeee! So, we went about setting up the canopy (with way too many cooks to spoil the broth so it was a wonder the thing went up at all) and the tables and loaded those puppies down with the t-shirts we were selling. (With any luck. Hopefully. Maybe. Please?)
Whilst in the throes of such set-up, I, who can find the single stick or rock or something in a wide, vast desert of NOTHING and trip over it, managed to catch my heel on the folding camp chairs that were laying in a pile near the edge of our 'temporary squatting grounds.' (There was absolutely NO squatting. Just saying. Making that perfectly clear. There were port-o-potties available at a not-too-far jaunt, though far enough to keep from damaging the air quality nearby. Okay, moving on.) So there I was, leaning backwards at a precarious angle (I had been backing up when I caught my heel), arms wind-milling through the air, and going, "Oh! Ooohhh! Ooohhhhh!!" while everyone ignored me.
I fought it, I honestly did. With every ounce of willpower and fortitude I had ever owned (I think I even borrowed some from nearby people- er- zombies). Apparently, zombies do NOT have fortitude, because it was to no avail. All I managed to do was look like an idiot, flailing my arms and tipping like a skate-boarder balancing on a rail, before landing- KERTHUMP!- with a thud in the middle of the chairs. Which, by the way, are not nearly as comfortable to sit upon when they are still folded up. Just saying.
I also landed on my step-daughter's pocketbook. Which had her glasses in it. Which were not in a case, just bumping around loosely inside. Awesome.
Now, naturally, everyone wanted to run to my assistance and I couldn't help but to think, 'Where were you all, like, ten seconds ago?!' Anyway, I eventually pried myself off of the pile-o-chairs, bruised, sore, but not in the least embarrassed. Hey, falling is what I do. And by God, if there is something you do well, no matter how trivial, OWN it! And I do. I OWN falling! (I lend it out to my son sometimes.)
The purse was investigated and the glasses discovered whole and hearty- thank God for that! That could have been one very expensive fall.
We finally finished setting up the booth and began to hawk our t-shirts and pass out flyers while the haunt kids went wandering to see what they could see. A number of zombies trailed by our booth through-out the day: Tippi Hedren (as I have already mentioned, but I did it again anyway, so there, sue me) giving everybody the bird-er- being attacked by her birds, Little Red Riding Hood and her Grandma Wolf, zombie prom queens abounded, zombies in pajamas. (which makes me think of Bananas, in pajamas, are coming down the stairs! Does anybody besides me remember that? My daughter loved that stupid show. Anyway, zombies… definitely not coming down the stairs. Falling maybe… Hey, we got something in common!)
Um, let's see, where was I? Oh yeah, a zombie bride and groom, zombie princesses, a zombie ballerina, and even a zombie nutcracker. Who knew the zombie plague could take out inanimate objects? I have to warn my son, he collects nutcrackers. Just what he needs: to wake up one morning and be doing his own early morning shamble towards the bathroom when suddenly an assault team of zombie nutcrackers starts sliding across the floor after him, their little wooden jaws opening and closing with ominous intent. Chomp, chomp, chomp! Or maybe, Click, click, click. Which makes me think of that Christmas song, (fitting right?) about the reindeer on the rooftop, Click, click, click. Not nearly as ominous. More enjoyable. As long as you're not the one scraping reindeer poop off the shingles.
So anyway, we managed to sell some shirts- meeting about half our goal for the cost of the event insurance (for the haunt) and all was well. The vendors were closing shop. It was time for the 'walk' to begin. The walk, in essence, is a mini-march down through part of the town, mimicking a zombie hoard shuffling through the streets of some fair city. You know, you've seen it enacted in many a zombie movie. I have to wonder though- does the town use this as some sort of a preparedness drill? I mean, you have your tornado sirens and your emergency broadcast signals to help you prepare for various disasters. Are they getting ready for the zombie plague? If so, buddy, we might want to all jump on board. I mean, ask yourselves- are YOU ready for the zombie apocalypse? Doubt it.
So, naturally our haunt kids wanted to join the shamble and since this gave us time to pack everything back up, clean up our area, and prepare to load the vehicles, this worked about perfectly.
Until, that is, one of the event coordinators stopped by the booth and volunteered me to count zombies. "It's easy," she said. "Just stand at the head of the park and count heads as they leave."
Sounds easy, doesn't it?
Wrong.
Have you ever tried to count hundreds of moving people? They are shuffling and shambling (as zombies do, we already discussed this) and bobbing and weaving (as zombies don't- see above) and moving in and out of one another. And don't even get me started on the kids. Suddenly the crowd would part and you'd see a group of like six or seven (because kids wander in packs a la zombies) that you had failed to count the heads of. This task would have been much easier if we had been allowed to decapitate the zombies and then count the heads. But that was apparently against the rules. They thought we needed a challenge. But the zombies weren't really giving us a sporting chance.
I managed to count 720 of the blasted buggers- my count matched another person's to a T so I guess I wasn't that far off. However, I missed the MANY who went off course and cut through the park instead of coming up the stairs like they were supposed to. But who could blame them- zombies are not bananas in pajamas, instead they are like slinkies- they tumble down the stairs.
Bananas in pajamas! LOL!
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