|Elvis didn't recognize me at first|
Today is Halloween. Last night in Frankfurt there was a huge party, mostly attended by the ex-pat community. Ze Germans do Halloween all wrong anyway (forgive them, they know not what they do). Most believe that you are supposed to dress up like something "gruselig" (creepy, scary, gross, blood-curdling), but in fact, we all know you can be whoever you want on Halloween. Several Germans at the party last night chose to just be themselves. Where's the fun in that?
Some of my costumes in the past have included a milk-maid (whatever, I was a weird kid), a cat (oh, how original), a geisha, Paloma Picasso (I was going for Natasha from Rocky and Bullwinkle, but that's how it turned out...), Agent 99 from "Get Smart", a victim of domestic violence at a cocktail party, and Pris from "Blade Runner."
This year I was inspired by a recent visit home to Tucson, where I was reminded of the Dia de los Muertos - a huge tradition in the Mexican culture, which is of course prominent in southern Arizona. So I did my best to look like a skeleton, wore my new "All Souls Procession" T-Shirt, and went on my merry way.
I was delighted to discover that nobody could recognize me. Even a good friend walked right past me without suspecting it was me. Her boyfriend and I both had the number 13 on our shirts, and I pointed that out to him without speaking -- he later confessed that he thought I was just some random woman trying to flirt with him. Sorry to disappoint him, I eventually confessed my true identity - but only to a select few.
This is a good way to go through life, I think -- not to show your true self until you've tested the waters for just a bit.