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ODD JOBS — Playing Pikachu |
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Written by asap
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Friday, 18 August 2006 |
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AP Photo/Chris Pizzello
Kid, that hug is killing my back.
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Around overdraft statement No. 4 it hit me: I’m not good with money.
Enter Craigslist. A few e-mails later, I was stuffed into a 5-foot-4-inch, animatronic carpet and surrounded by 10,000 kids yelling PIKACHUUUUUUU!
I spent a day working as a costumed Pokemon character, a bizarre experience that helped this committed kidphobe learn to find a little joy in making youngsters happy.
It wasn’t some fetish I’d had to spend several hours in a furry beehive with eyes and ears. A negative $400 balance and a “vehicular immobilization unit” or two, however, can change one’s mind quickly.
———
I scoured Craigslist and found an ad: Workers needed for all-day kids event in Montgomery County, Maryland. I sent an e-mail and the next day, a woman called. Did I have tattoos? Did I have experience with kids? Finally she asked my height -- 5-foot-nothing. Then, gingerly: “How do you feel about being in costume?” She explained that there would be two characters who would have to take pictures with kids. The characters earned $18 an hour. I was all over it.
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Photo/HO/Nintendo/John T. Barr
Can I take you home?
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They e-mailed paperwork before my Friday night training and offered several tips -- “Bring towels. Drink water. Wear shorts.” Whoa. What had I gotten myself into?
I missed much of Friday night’s training and when I returned Saturday morning, had no idea what to expect. I was guided to one of those mall back areas where I met with three other girls and two tall guys in Pokemon jackets; I later learned the guys were our “handlers.”
We were instructed to assemble the costumes. I expected something close to those old ’80s style Halloween numbers, a one-size-fits-all plastic body suit and a mask. I figured I’d spend the whole day doing the moonwalk in a Pikachu helmet and get $180 for my time. What emerged from four gigantic cloth bags instead was $10,000 worth of fiberglass, fur, rope and foam.
Pikachu, that omnipresent yellow cat-mouse icon of Pokemon, featured black, saucer like eyes, a little curl of a tongue and a lightning bolt of a tail that flopped.
The second costume was Munchlax, a huge green blob with a body that resembled a giant hoop skirt and a globe-like head. Each costume had trade-offs: cutouts in Pikachu’s head gave him high visibility. But his arms were extremely short and his body fit down over your legs in a way that made walking fast impossible.
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Munchlax, meanwhile, had an open bottom, which enabled a cool breeze to flow through. But his head had near zero visibility and his bulk made him easily knocked down.
At 10 a.m., I stepped into the fluffy boots and the handlers slid Pikachu’s yellow, striped cocoon over my head. It rested entirely on your shoulders, supported by a bit of foam, and weighed about 40 or so pounds. I felt like a firefighter heading into a blaze as my handler led me through a maze of halls and into an area near a kiosk peddling Pokemon items.
 Those of you who assumed Pokemon was so eight years ago are totally wrong. Pokemon is going stronger than ever, and the fans are about one level down from trekkies. Adults and children alike drifted over, wanting a picture. And -- with my tiny arms flopping and my body bouncing up and down like a spring, I imagined I had to be fairly cute. I hugged toddlers and waved my arms at babies in strollers. I put my arms around grown women drawn in by the Pikachu appeal, and inside, giggled that nobody knew it was a tiny black woman they were posing with. After about 18 minutes, sweat began dripping down my face, back and chest. “Need a break?” my handler inquired. I sprang up and down -- the preapproved sign for “yes” -- and we drifted back to the lounge. When I took off the costume, I was drenched. Next I tried Munchlax.
It came in two pieces. First there was the bottom half, which you hoisted and held while handlers snapped arm straps over your shoulders. Think OshKosh B’Gosh jumper with arms. The head fit on like a gigantic space helmet, and you could only see through two little holes. Again, out the double doors. I thought the kids wouldn’t be as reactionary. Wrong! They loved this Munch-thing and again threw themselves all over me.
Soon I learned how to lift Pikachu’s shell of a body up just high enough to walk to the shopping area in three minutes instead of 10. I got used to the visibility in Munchlax and soon could wiggle my rump and do ’80s breakdancing arm moves. It was just in time: The number of kids went from a hundred or so in the morning to a couple hundred by noon.
They jammed Pikachu toys into my face, and screeched until I signaled recognition.
Groups of little boys clustered in front of my big black eyes and stuffed their tiny fists in my foam mouth, hoping to uncover the secret of what was making me tick.
Everyone wanted a piece of The ’Chu and after a while, I was totally diggin’ the attention. Then came the moment that every clown and costumed character must dread: I was attacked.
I was headed for the lounge, when out of nowhere a 20-something Asian man with a SERIOUS thing for Pokemon appeared.
I turned. He lunged. “I LOVE YOU MUNCHLAAAX” he yelped and charged me. He bear hugged me, then backed up and demanded, “Can you fight?”
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“Uh oh,” I thought to myself.
He made kung fu hands at me. I offered a little kick and my best Bruce Lee impression. Then, before we re-enacted “Enter the Dragon,” my handler got me outta there.
By 4:30, it was just about time to go. I volunteered to be the last Pikachu out, but my handlers said it was so close to the end and would take so long to get me suited up, there was just no point. I felt a little ... sad. And that’s when I realized it. For all the sweating, screaming and general weirdness associated with wearing a furry space suit all day, I’d had fun.
I’d been smiling in every picture, though nobody could see me. We weren’t told to do anything but stand there, yet I’d gotten totally into character, dancing and chasing kids. I found joy in their little wonder-filled eyes. They were happy, and I was happy making someone else happy.
As one of my handlers and I walked through the dim mall hallway back to the lounge, he turned to me and with a hint of admiration said “You’re the best Pikachu, hands down.” I grinned. Now I know how Santa Claus must feel.
———
asap contributor Dionne Walker is an AP reporter in the Richmond, Va. bureau.
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