“Sorry if I freak you out,” I said, “I have a gig in the neighborhood in a little bit, and I needed to stop by and grab this belt.”
Gina then explained to me that all the sales associates had gotten together and she was the one who was picked to go talk to the guy in the clown suit. Apparently I was just another customer. Just a freaky one no one wanted to help. Guy In Clown Suit, 0. Everyone Else, 1.
As I walked down Michigan Avenue to my next destination, I began a mental inventory of the first reactions I'd been getting on the street: A few smiles and waves from the adults, some adoration from the kids and nothing much else from the majority of people out there that afternoon. I started to wonder if adults are just so used to weirdos that a clown walking around doing a little shopping is nothing out of the ordinary.
Have these people become so desensitized to odd sights this is no big deal? I decided the answer was definitely yes as I walked by the guy spray painted gray with a sign that said “Will move for $$$,” and soon after him, a wannabe Kenny G. tooting his sax.
I strolled into Kenneth Cole to try on a pair of shoes. The store wasn't very busy, and I was able to grab a pair that I liked and sit right down. The sales associate headed over and asked what size I needed to see.
He brought them over and I tried them on, walked around, and went back and requested a larger pair. I tried the shoes on again, pretended to be satisfied, and told him, “I'll be back later to purchase these. I have to go work.”
“Do you want me to hold them for you?” he asked. I was tempted to tell him, “Yes, hold them under the name Buckles the Clown,” but he had been such an incredible sport, so I told him it was not necessary. This time there wasn't even a reaction to the getup. Clown, still 0. Everyone Else, 2.
My last stop was American Girl Place. I thought this would be a perfect spot to go because from what I'd experienced so far, I got the biggest reaction from kids. Not yet having been there, I was not at all prepared for this store. This place on was three full levels, and I would say that the ratio was about four or five kids for every one adult. Kids were running around without regard for anything. They were screaming, grabbing, throwing, crying and laughing . Imagine walking into a store where the shelves were stacked with cash and a mob was set loose in the aisles. Pandemonium.
On the second floor, I just walked around and said hi to everybody. I waved at kids, getting hugs from them, smiles from the parents and even approval from the sales associates. If I had wanted to shop at the store, I don't think it would've been physically possible because of all the attention I was getting. I was a hit. Guy In Clown Suit finally scores some points.
After 10 minutes or so, I asked someone where the bathroom was. I wandered in, changed my clothes, and washed my makeup off. I was back in jeans and a t-shirt, back in my civilian clothes, back to normal old Joe. I walked out of the bathroom and was a virtual ghost getting out of the store.
I was right about kids being mesmerized by the clown. I was wrong, however, about the reaction I got from adults. I had thought that the adults would be freaked out about a clown randomly wandering in and out of stores, but unless they had kids, I was ignored. But it's not like adults should react to clowns. They can't be running up to something as silly as a clown, on the verge of peeing their pants because they're so excited and waving like there's no tomorrow, as a child would.
Yes, Ronald and Grimace ruined clowns for me for a few years, but what of it? If I had been allowed to just grow out of them, if I hadn't held onto a 17-year grudge, I would have never had a reason dress up like one. I had set out to shock people, thinking that, like me, they would see something slightly malicious in a clown on Michigan Avenue. Instead, I think I discovered something about why anyone would put on face paint in the first place: It turns out that for an adult, a clown barely deserves a double-take. Despite the garish costume and face paint, you're just another shopper. Maybe a little eccentric, but just another shopper. For a kid you're an event. You're the main event. As long as you don't maliciously lie to kids or drop them on hard concrete in front of an entire laughing elementary school, you are a hit. Let's just call the score even in the Clown Guy versus the world debate.
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