"Put on your Yarmulke, It's time for Chanukah.."  − 8 December, 2001

At this point I had been laid off from Leveledge (see “Don’t Come Back”) for about 8 months. The unemployment checks were about the run out in about a week and I was so depressed about not working, I felt that I would do anything. Well, anything was about to show up.

I had some friends who knew my situation and they came to me one day with an opportunity. They told me about a friend of theirs who was an event planner and she was planning a holiday parade for the city of Tiburon. (http://www.ci.tiburon.ca.us/) She was putting this parade together with several "holiday characters" and she needed someone to play a character. It was for about 3 hours and she would pay $150 for my time.

I leaped at the chance to make that much money in such a short amount of time. I had always wanted to put on one of those costumes like at Disneyland or sporting events. I could see myself bouncing around, pushing the belly out on the costume, and waiving to the crowd as I walked by. This was going to be the easiest $150 I'd ever made.

It was very overcast that day and the clouds were threatening rain all morning. For some strange reason I was instructed to wear black pants and black shoes. I didn't really question it, I just showed up at 7am at Sam's Anchor Cafe ready to go to work. I knew something was wrong right away when I saw the other characters getting ready. They were all actors and had their own costumes that they used professionally. Right then the event planner came into the room. She was slightly panicked due to the rain and schedule she had to keep. She starts right in "So, in the process of planning this parade, I planned it as a Christmas parade rather than a "Holiday Parade", and now I need you to be a Menorah." My first thought brought an image of Lumiere from "Beauty and the Beast". That image was instantly changed when she handed my costume.

The entire thing consisted of the following. A bicycle helmet with a series of toilet paper rolls glued together to make a giant Menorah Mohawk. It looked like a 5th grade school project gone terribly wrong. She then handed me a sash. It was white with blue, what I thought must have been Hebrew, writing on it. "Put this on, we are starting the parade in 10 minutes". I stared blankly at her she quickly walked away.

I couldn't believe that she thought this would appease the Jewish community, but I didn't have time to question it. I was broke and desperate, and she was willing to pay me money, so I sold out. I put on the bike helmet, Menorah thing and headed to the door to get ready for the parade. I gritted my teeth in embarrassment. Then, it started to rain.

All of the characters of the parade made their way out of Sam's onto the main street of downtown Tiburon and the rain began to come down. I decided that the only thing that I could was laugh at the most embarrassing moment in my life and make the best of it. I walked with the Mohawk Menorah down the street and waved to the surprisingly large Tiburon community. They had come to see a parade, rain or shine. The reactions to my costume were those of bewilderment. The looks on their faces were all I need to confirm my hell. I smiled and waive none-the-less and made my way down the parade route.

We ended up back at Sam's at the end of the parade to allow the kids to get pictures with the characters. Luckily nobody wanted to take pictures with me, but I still had to wear the costume as families piled into the restaurant.

After about 40 minutes of standing there, my ego crushed, my manhood at an all time low, thinking of how I had reached the lowest point in my life with no way to get out of my personal hell.... it got worse. Right about then a woman walked up to me and said "I just have to say that I've been watching you for a while now and I just had to say something. I find what you are wearing extremely offensive. First of all the Menorah has the wrong amount of candles represented and the sash that you are wearing is a sacred sash that is only worn in the Synagogue." I was crushed.

I silently removed the helmet, then the sash, and in a somber voice said “I’m really sorry, I’ll leave now.” I walked up to the event planner and handed her my costume. I said “I know that I still have 20 more minutes, but I’m leaving how.” I just walked away. I was the lowest point in my life.

At that point I was not sure if I would ever get my $150, but it came in the mail 3 days later. I never did ever find out what the sash was called.

I apologize to the Jewish community if this story is offensive.

Comments:

jcolman (September 18, 2006. 05:26am)

As a member of the (non-practicing and certianly non-orthodox) Jewish community, I just wanted to say that I thought this was hilarious. Definitely not a Lumiere costume!