I decided to fulfill my life-long ambitions of bunnyhood by donning a bunny suit this past weekend. No, not that kind of bunny suit. The Easter, egg-hunting, candy-whoring kind. I agreed to dress up as the Easter Bunny for a brunch at a hotel chain (the one with the wealthy socialite celebrity spawn) for a friend who usually does it, but "couldn't handle it anymore." I had a "well, you only live once/try everything once" moment when I said yes. It was a hot, sweaty affair with residual neck and back pains but I can't say I regret doing it. At least now, I know what it is to look through the eyes of the Easter Bunny.
I woke up on Easter Sunday with a slight feeling of apprehension. It was not everyday that you put on a costume and parade in front of strangers (well, at least, for normal people). Ivan packed me and my costume into the car and we were off, joking about things to watch out for (candy-coated hands, don't take the head off in front of the kids, don't talk, and most importantly, don't let them look you in the eyes). We got there and sneaked past a couple of loitering families in the lobby (geniuses that we were, we left the costume in a clear bag). Once there, I slipped into the suit, gloves, and feet effortlessly. I knew it was the ungainly head that would do me in. I strapped the crown tightly against my head to keep the bunny head from flinging off in case of emergency maneuvers and looked through the mesh eyes at Ivan. He smiled and shook his head at having married such a weird girl. Then, it was out to meet my adoring public.
I had a basket with about two pounds of candy in it and was wobbly with the extra weight of the giant head on my shoulders. I started out in the lobby, handing out lollipops to eye-rolling teens and bashful kids in poofy dresses and matching suits (btw, what's with dressing all your children in the same outfit in different sizes? It's kinda cute but also creepy.). At first, it was mostly amused adults asking to have their picture taken with me but when the families started arriving for the brunch, things changed. The kids poured in, ranging from adorable to bratty. One little girl with the golden curly hair/dimples/poof dress trifecta so saccharine that it would make Hallmark bleed ran straight for me and then stopped two inches away, staring up at me with a look of pure awe. She wouldn't come any closer but she also wouldn't move. I was stuck staring back her, afraid to touch her lest she disappear into a cloud of sparkles, bubbles and kittens. Another little kid was visible shaking, he was so excited to see the Easter Bunny, and the closer I got to him, the more he was giggling and shaking until I reached him, whereupon he burst into tears and buried his head into his father's arms. Okay, maybe it was fear the whole time and I just interpreted it wrong. It made me think about how I haven't reacted to anything quite that wholly since I was a kid. When was the last time? Strike that, I think I almost peed myself when I met Neil Gaiman. I digress...
The one time things got hare-y...(ha ha, er) was when I was sneakily recruited by this large clan in one of the side function rooms for an in depth photo shoot with their twenty kids. I had already been walking around for half an hour and was dehydrated and a 150 degrees (you could see the heat radiating off of me) when I was stopped by this family. I figured, all right, this shouldn't take long and then I can take a break. They led me to a back foyer with a couple of sofas, sat me down and the kids proceeded to climb all over me. I just sat there, my mind a complete blank while they snapped away. At some point, one of the boys, about eight, looked straight into my "eye" and went, "Hey! There's a person in there!" after which a bunch of them crowded around my head and looked in at me. I felt like some weird specimen in a dish and all I could do was sit there silently and stare back at them while the word spread like wildfire that oh my god, that's not the Easter Bunny, that's a person in a bunny suit! Some of the older kids tried to hush the medium aged kids so they don't ruin if for the little kids, which worked to some extent (the little, little kids didn't get it) but they kept knowingly whispering to each other like they had discovered a great secret, pointing at the zipper in the back of the suit and poking me in the bunny eye. Hey kids, Santa's not real either! You're all getting coal in your stockings this year. After a grateful dad pressed a $20 into my paw (cha-ching!), I shuffled away to the back room, took off my stifling head, and breathed glorious air.
Two more hours passed with no more outings, a near decapitation (my over-sized head+parent giving me their child to hold for pic=almost losing over-sized head), and probably sweating off about 10 pounds (gross, ew, I know), and I finished off with a nice fat check in hand and a new-found appreciation for people dressed up as characters in theme parks.
So ended my adventures in Character Costume World. That wasn't so bad, really. I learned many things and was momentarily loved by small children everywhere. Next year, though, I think I'll just do what I usually do on Easter: veg out in front of the couch with a Cadbury creme egg and feel sorry for the poor suckers in the bunny suits.
