boobies & monkey farts

I'm emerging from four days of monkey mascoting at the New York Chocolate Show. It was one day longer than i've ever done in costume. Two consecutive days is a killer, while four...i still feel a sub-human hollowness in my head. For the first time in my life, i'm actually tempted to pay for a massage, partly to hear the masseuse say, "Mother of Mary, what the blessed fuck have you been doing?"
The most amazing chocolate taste of NYCS 2010? It's a tie between Sendall Chocolates TOFFEE TABOO, and NibMor organic dark with almonds. Sendall was our neighbor, and kept a plate stocked for us. An amazing thing happened, something that's never happened before. Whenever i had time to wander and sample, i could not walk one step further than our neighbor's plate. Any combination of toffee and dark chocolate makes me point (a relic of my childhood passion for Heath bars). They had the dark, with toffee-coated nuts and white drizzle. I was still stuffing my face after four days, which does not happen - i usually only eat sweets once a week or so. And NibMor? It's oganic and vegan. I wasn't gobsmacked when i sampled it at the show, but when i took it home, refrigerated it, and took a larger bite, i commenced to EAT the entire bar. Again, something that never happens.
I have a confession to make about Bananas, the monkey. And if his new friend Heather is reading this, it pains me to think i may forever sully a beautiful monkey crush.
Ready?
Occasionally in the life of Bananas, there are moments when i'm just staring at boobies or blowing monkey farts.
Not often! Maybe a minute or so out of a whole day. And never so that anyone notices. But an eight-hour shift in that suit is a bizarre, surreal trial of endurance, even with nice breaks. After the first hour, you accept living with perpetual pain. And while i normally give a dismissive look to those who claim, "It's not the heat, it's the humidity", they're perhaps not total morons...in addition to the 105 degrees in the suit, there's a humidity factor that's probably comparable to actual rain. So in moments of weariness when suddenly there's a lull in the human energy around me...well...
My eyes rest on some occasional boobies, because no one in the world has any idea what my eyes are doing.
Actually, i don't think that's true...i think a big part of the success of Bananas is commitment to character, and that people are perceptive to purity of focus. So maintaining character is the feat hidden within the feat. Can you mesmerize an audience with a Shakespearean sonnet? Now can you do it while tiny, unseen needles sporadically pierce you?
I've even blown occasional quiet farts while in the middle of an interaction, but only with adults who see Bananas as a mildly-interesting photo op, and not the loving force of nature he is.
The highlight of the show was when Heather, a vendor at another booth, called Bananas over as he was passing by, saying that her friend needed a hug. I thought it might be some obligatory silliness, but i was game. Seven seconds later, i realized that something special was happening, as this poor woman melted into me. I was suddenly reminded that multiple layers of clothing and costume can't block the energy of genuine human connection. I try to time monkey hugs to release at precisely the same instant as the person i'm hugging, neither leading nor following (if you think that sounds easy, try it). But she quietly held me like she never wanted it to end. I was reminded of how mind-numbingly paralyzing a woman's breasts can feel, if two bodies or spirits align perfectly. It felt like she hadn't been hugged right in a long time. Once or twice my spiritual energy said, "She must be done now?" But she wasn't, so i kept on slowly rubbing her back through my monkey hand. So, so beautiful.

hallow-eenversion

On the morning of most holidays, including my birthday, i wake up unaware of the date, prefering spontaneity to premeditatation. There are of course exceptions.
This Halloween was no exception. I've nothing against Halloween, i've had some delightful experiences thereon, and always look forward to the chance to break out my "flasher" costume (one year i chickened out from doing it properly, and have sought any opportunity to make amends ever since). I do not, however, like my costuming activity to be confined to one societally-proscribed day of the year...and i ain't talkin' about mascots.
This Halloween, i awoke in a Marriott in Boston, and headed off to the final day of the Boston Vegetarian Food Show, to give away goodwill and free samples for Peanut Butter & Co. I often work these shows in costume, as our baby monkey mascot. Sometimes, like this time, i'm just me.
At 4PM, my wonderful partner Jenny and i headed back to NYC. After dropping her off on 155th St., i headed to the Village to drop off the leftover PB at our sandwich shop.
Somebody (myself included) should have questioned the wisdom of making a commercial dropoff in the heart of the Village on Halloween night. What with the parade, shoulder-to-shoulder revelers, and closed-off streets, it took me the better part of four hours to get in and out. At 1:30AM, i dropped off the U-Haul on 50th St., and walked to 32nd to catch the subway home.
It was one of the most memorable subway rides of my life. All around me, merry-makers were heading home. I was the only person not in costume. I had a lovely chat with the Riddler and Poison Ivy, who were curious about my hiker's pack and normal attire.
The ride was a bizarre inversion of a part of my life. More times than i could ever count, i've been the one costumed person in a sea of humanity. For a brief moment, i experienced the exact opposite.
Ah life, silly and wonderful...

mascot memories

Let me say up front that, like most sane people, i'm not a mascot fan. When confronted by a six-foot Mickey Mouse or Power Ranger or doughnut, my response is "That's fine, now go". I suppose it's because most mascots are corporate shills. The ones that aren't find some other way to be annoying, probably because they're so attention-seeking (if a huge mongoose walked down the street wanting nothing from nobody, then you might have something).
However, as a working actor, i happily confess i've donned the mascot duds from time to time.
It usually wasn't pure prostitution, most of the gigs were non-corporate or so goofy that i didn't care.
Here's my mascot history, in case you wondered why that huge possum touched you like he knew you. Maybe it was me, or maybe you just got felt up by a possum.
It started in FL as a Keystone Cop. One of my acting buddies, Jason, got us the gig. He and i stood by the highway, for some housing development, engaging in asshatery and gesturing at the company offices as cars sped past. It was a gig, man, it was a gig.
Jason roped us another paycheck, from Dunkin Donuts. Farmer Joe and a seven-foot egg with an inflating motor inside. You might think that Farmer Joe was the plum assignment, but my face wasn't visible inside the egg, so i didn't have to really "commit to character". What the hell kind of character is "egg", anyway? We hit some of the shops, and did one radio interview. I didn't say anything, i was an egg.
At the Greek cafe where i ran my first theater, Tony the owner asked me to do something once a week to create a buzz. Out front every Sunday for months, i created some new goofiness. A baby new year. A hayseed fishing out of the puddle in the parking lot. A mermaid. All five Village People. Tony always gave me a twenty, and the most wonderful Greek omelet ever. I was the baby new year another time, at a birthday party my friends threw for a friend. They asked me to do a striptease. In front of a hundred people, i happily did so.
In New York, i played Sponge Bob at least forty times, for a children's health service. It was an unofficial suit; my boss didn't want to pay royalties. I also did Spiderman once. I sometimes talked as Bob, but usually not. The kids asked WAY too many questions that quickly revealed me as the pretender i was. One night i had the costume and a girlfriend who loved Bob, and i wore it as we walked around the Village hand-in-hand.
I played Santa Claus, giving out presents in a children's hospital. The hospital was in the heart of an orthodox Jewish neighborhood, and i had to arrive there in costume. It was many blocks from the subway. The looks old Santy got from the locals were priceless.
I played a salty fisherman, handing out free newspapers. Possibly the most bought-soul day of my life.
I played Elvis. The first time was in a Broadway theater, as one of fifty Elvi in a memorial service for a producer. The second time was at an office party, where i downed the only shot of my life. It was so watered-down, i didn't feel a thing.
I played Adam (fig leaf and not-all) for Vitamuffin, at a food show. Three of the colder days of my life...they had a tiny space heater for each of us, which basically meant that a 1'x1' patch of our skin was warm, and nothing else. I saw other Adams in later years...i suspect they didn't ask me back because i wasn't conventionally handsome enough.
I did some kind of feline, or other mammal, for a private party. I may have been serving drinks, or not. My memory is hazy, but i promise it wasn't one of those "take the kitty in the bedroom" parties.
I played an astronaut at a business expo, for an internet company started by one of the losers of The Apprentice.
And the gem in my mascot history, the off-the-charts amazing Bananas, the monkey. Hit the "mascot" label to your right.

bad monkey 2: monkey love

I worked the 2008 NY Chocolate Show this week as baby Bananas, the lovablest loveball merry monkey mascot.
In earlier Bananas articles, i don't think i was able to communicate how much genuine love he inspires. I despair of ever really being able to do so, in words. The reaction to most mascots is "yes, you're a dude/girl in a chicken suit/big doughnut, and you can go now". For anyone not aged 2-5, the best one can hope for, even with mascots which aren't overtly annoying, is a "that's cute" reaction which is relatively quickly forgotten, but hopefully remembered subconsciously.
With Bananas, the average reaction is on a different level, to say nothing of the more profound reactions. I'm not saying that Bananas is the first mascot to transcend the genre. The Phillie Phanatic has been making adults forget there's a man inside there, for years. That chicken does it, too. So it's safe to assume that others have done it.
But the kind of love Bananas engenders is just more personal than anything i've ever heard of. For a significant percentage of the thousands who saw Bananas this week, he was the cutest and most unexpected thing they experienced at the show, and he stayed in their consciousness throughout the day. For a smaller percentage who had a more personal interaction, he'll be a part of their consciousness for a good deal longer. And for a few...
The best way i can describe the profound interactions is by telling you of one child and one adult. The common thread was that they simply could not get enough. Please believe that hyperbole is not my style. The child was around two, and this non-verbal lad convinced his parents to return to me three or four times. I'm sure some of those times he just bolted from their presence when he spotted me again. He would have stood there, waving and dancing and hypnotized, for hours. This interaction was on the last day, when i was a bit wrecked. Most mascot gigs are over in three hours, but i was doing more than twice that for almost four days. By the last day, the pain in my upper back torso was pretty well torturous within a few minutes of putting the helmet on. In that state, you grab at extra moments of relief that come with leaning your heavily-helmeted head back. But even when you're cheating, you try to do it in character, so on that last day, someone watching long enough might have wondered why Bananas was so curious about the ceiling. If our booth had a massage therapist on-call, or i had a live-in therapist of my own, i'd have endured better. I'm not holding my breath on the former, and accepting applications for the latter. But this child came on the last day, and i gutted out the pain needed to give him a little window of magic which will very possibly only come once in his life.
The adult mirror of this child was a girl in her late teens. She was with a friend, and as happens in cases like these, i could tell right away that she was feeling something very strange and personal, something which affected her whole being. The first time she hugged me, i felt her urge to not let go. There's no way this reaction could have been so profound if it was a one-way thing. Something in her presence touched me deeply, and we created a circuit. Like the child, she and her friend came back to me three or four times (and i found her once too). There was just no way she could get enough of what she was feeling, as she looked into the screens of my eyes while i cradled and stroked her hand. If i had left the building with her, she wouldn't have even analyzed it. I mean, you know, at some point reality kicks in with adults, and within a few blocks, she would have analyzed it. But think about how amazing that proposition is, that it might have taken that long. When i'm in that rare zone, which occurs about once per show, i'm certain the woman just wants nothing more in the world than to take Bananas home. Again, no hyperbole. I would call it likely that years from now, she and her friend will suddenly recall that monkey moment in time.
For the first time ever, i saw video images of Bananas this year. I've always been objectively aware of his cuteness, but i now know that i never comprehended it fully. The images almost startled me, and i'm the one in the suit! It seemed almost unfair that that amount of cuteness could exist in the world.
At the end of the show, Bananas gives a rose to his favorite worker from another vendor's booth. I began this tradition last year, and this year delivered one to the Chocolove stand.
And this year i experienced one other thing i'd never felt. I gave a monkey hug to a beaming woman, and after a second or three, through at least five layers of costume and clothing, i felt her heart. It was so strong and i was so surprised that i pulled back a bit, and as i did, she exclaimed to her friends in amazement that she could feel my heartbeat.
Just like that.
Monkey love.

bad monkey

(Author's note: the following is a chronicle of my occasional life as a baby monkey mascot for a gourmet food company. Most mascots are annoying. You're about to meet one who isn't.)

BAD MONKEY (a Bananas guide)
You don’t believe it? He’s too cute, you say? Too sweet? He is those things, most certainly. He’s a little lover and a big charmer. But as granmammy always said, “a charmer will always get in, and he knows it”. Bananas is the essence of goodness. Just don’t turn your back. He’s mischievous. He’ll give you a scare, just for fun. He’ll untie your apron. He’ll move things on you. He’ll play people against each other, and sit back. For a big lug, he’s deceptively sly. He’s larcenous. Mostly it’s playful, and he’ll give back the trinkets. But larceny is larceny. He’s a flirt. Oh, he likes all people. Absolutely. Any love that comes to him he will bounce right back, regardless of age or gender. But oh yes, he does like the ladies... He’s just a little monkey, really. Let’s not judge harshly. And let’s climb inside.
Monkey Moves
I don't mean the stock moves, the obvious ones. The walk, the hug, the mimicry, the hip wiggle dance, the jump and turn dance, the pigtail popping, the “hide the eyes” game…no, i’m talking about the moves that not everyone sees.
THE OPPOSITE-SHOULDER TAP: An obvious one learned by all children, but the effect can be profound on someone who doesn’t realize a two-meter baby monkey has sidled up to them.
THE STEALTH HUG: He puts his arm around someone who didn’t see him coming.
THE NONCHALANT AT-YOUR-SIDE: He will stand next to someone who hasn’t seen him, looking away but nearly touching, and wait until noticed.
THE HAND SLIP: He will follow someone who doesn’t know they’re being followed, and stealthily slip his hand into theirs, and then continue walking while happily holding their hand, as though he’s decided to go home with them. He'll occasionally stick with someone for a good long time, too. If you’ve never seen this one, it’s probably my favorite and the results can be unforgettable.
THE FOLLOW: He will follow someone who doesn’t know they’re being followed, to see how long he can go unnoticed. Often a third party alerts the mark, and again the results can be unforgettable.
The trick in all these, of course, is finding the right mark. The key to monkey interaction is reading people. If you’re perceptive, people will tell you exactly what they want. Non-verbally, from across the room. Of course, you’re "reading" from inside a blackened bowl looking out through two small mesh-covered holes, and have to make assessments in a fraction of a second. That’s the single most important monkey skill. I’m a tiny bit amazed that i only misread somebody once or twice per convention, on average. And those happen because very occasionally i gamble. Relying on intuition and charm, i’ll sometimes interact with someone when i’m not 100% sure they want it. On those gambling occasions, there’s probably one miss for every nine hits.
The Costume
Yes, it’s hot. People get that. What i said about reading people goes the other way, too…pretty much the only time people will sympathetically address me as a suffering actor is when my butt is dragging a bit. It doesn’t happen often, and you'd think you could occasionally let your guard down when every part of you is covered, but damned if certain people don't pick up on it. It’s probably fair to say that most people couldn’t do Bananas, physically. At his best, he’s running, jumping, and dancing. In the costume-gig world, it’s rare that you’ll be asked to go for longer than three hours, with generous breaks. Most people will need more and longer breaks than i. The surprising thing is that i rarely get that “sweat streaming” condition in the suit; it happens sometimes, but i’ve gone whole shifts without that streaming feeling. Of course, even when not streaming, you’re living in a world of moisture. Every time i take the helmet off, the inside is layered in droplets. The manual says it’s 105 degrees in there. It’s heavy, too. The cumulative effect of adding six to eight pounds onto your neck for hours…massage therapy should be provided by the company after every shift. And a certain amount of high, non-stop physical activity is simply an inherent necessity, as sweeping head motions are needed to “see” the world effectively at all. At a show where my water supply was cut off, i learned that i wasn’t indestructible: I had to fight dehydration sickness the next day, while in the suit.
Kids
Kids are the best part of the job. Kids make it all worthwhile. In your bones, no hug by a child can ever be forgotten. Their eyes light up in wonder when you lift them up above your monkey head. The most amazing are the ones in that little window of time somewhere between two and three years old, the ones who are terrified at first (which is really the only sane reaction to a moving six-foot cloth and plastic monkey with painted eyes). But that terror, treated with dedicated patience, can be turned into fascination. And maybe once or twice per convention, a child will go from terror to fascination to love. And love from that particular child could never be described in words. You know that you’re touching them in a way that they will remember subconsciously forever. Sadly, there’s an irony involved with kids. They’re more rewarding, but harder physically. No, not so much because you have to be more active. Because they’re DOWN THERE. Seeing “down” for more than a second is a bitch. You have to lean your neck forward to see down (i strongly recommend any replacement monkey be substantially shorter than my 5’10”). Leaning over, you quickly realize what a gift it was to “only” have to stand up straight with the weight of that extra head. But you do all this, because that’s where the love is.
Women
As for Bananas being a flirt, there’s pragmatism in it. Now, i’m not saying i don’t enjoy it. I do. But a simple truth is that men generally are a bit less inclined than women to want interaction with someone in a monkey costume. Beyond that...ask the kids to leave the room for a moment, now...it usually happens about once per show that i meet a woman who has what can only be described as a monkey sexual fetish. When i give attention to such a woman, the reactions can be amazing…one woman got flushed, her eyes glazed and she could hardly talk…another showed me a monkey tattoo on her shoulder, and whispered that she wanted me on her back also. It happened, i swear. She got to me, too. We held hands, and there was a palpable current coursing between our hands, even through my big, soft, four-fingered glove. I’m pretty sure it was the only time i’ve ever been tempted to do or say anything unprofessional in any job i’ve EVER had. I’m not sure which of us had a harder time finally letting go. When i went home that night, i even posted a playful ad in the “missed connection” section of the online personals. Sigh...
Running Away
I understand that an element in the monkey’s marketing effectiveness is that i operate near the store or booth. Bananas doesn’t talk, so some people might think i’m just a big, happy monkey if i’m on my own, and not connect me to the product. And it can be fun when a company employee escorts me around. Those things said, i can’t stress enough that the most impactful, amazing moments as Bananas have come when i’ve “run away”. I would never expect any replacement monkey to be as physically independent as i, in terms of movement and speed and carrying. But i’ve stumbled into some unbelievable moments when i was out freelancing. An African drum circle in which i danced, as a crowd of at least a hundred gathered, clapping and cheering. The time i held a nearly newborn baby. Plunking down on the floor next to two teen workers who sat exhausted in a far corner of the pavilion, sharing a few surreal moments as a long show wound down. Bringing a present to someone who’s become my special friend over the course of a three-day show...
Just being Bananas.