[Now With Photos!]
Who are you? No, I don't mean your character. Who are you?
I wonder this question every time I go to a con. I try to find a quiet spot and people watch. And my eyes are always drawn to the cosplayers: the young, the old, the exper...
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Their reactions are complete opposites, like the sides of the moon.
On the bright side of the moon, pure joy. The smaller people, also known as the children, or the innocent, can't contain their delight. They run up to him, squealing. They embrace him before he even has a chance to put his arms up to return the favor. They stroke his white fur and whisper, "Bye, puppy!" as they are rushed off.
The taller people, also known as the adults, or the parents, are the dark side. They are trying to obscure their emotions, but those who have lived long enough in the Midwest know that expression. The tight lips, the hunched shoulders, the wrinkled brow line. This isn't the East Coast: No one is going to yell at him and go, "Hey, who are you, touching my kid?" Instead, they make that carefully constructed passive aggressive face and stride off, bumping their strollers along at the maximum speed possible without breaking into a run.
This won't last, I think.
And then, it doesn't. Two women, both with handheld transceivers and official looking St. Louis Zoo button-up shirts, flank this giant white wolf man. They are less passive, more aggressive.
"Hey, who are you with, guy," the bigger and buffer one asks.
"We're writing a book," I interject, knowing this is a partial fib, knowing that the wolf will not answer while in costume. "We received permission from the parking lot attendant."
"Well, you can't be here."
Of course we can't, I think. I would be nervous, too, if a man in a wolf costume frolicking around the St. Louis Zoo parking lot hugged my kid, too many weeks away from Halloween to be socially appropriate.
We apologize about 10 times, no exaggeration, and make a beeline back to our vehicle. We drive a little up the road, to an area of the iconic and historic Forest Park that is slightly more secluded and more welcoming to furry creatures. As soon as we park and the head is on, the wolf man is back in character again.
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He bounds over to a building and sniffs it on all fours. He leaps into the air, and then hides his face and shakes and bobs with delight. The photographer is furiously snapping her camera, but she provides no direction to our target. He is so immersed in the character, it is more like trying to photograph a wild animal than a man. Before we can protest, he dashes down a hill, past a pavilion, and around a bend of a trail. As we jog to catch up, an amused runner asks, "What are you guys doing?"
