Preface: Take a shot every time you read any form of the word ‘bite’ and you will be wasted by the end of this blog.
One episode of Walking Dead was all it took to get me hooked; I’m crazy for zombies. Or crazy for killing zombies...either way, when Kathryn asked me if I wanted to join a Zombie Pub crawl last Saturday afternoon, I said yes, yes, and more yes.
We missed out on the professional zombie make-up because I had to work earlier that day, so we applied our own apocalipstick and die liner. PUNS IN YO FACE.
Things started out really well. You’d be surprised by how a common love of eminent doom and blood thirsty, flesh-eaters will bring a group together. We bonded with Mr. and Mrs. Clown Zombie, Rainbow Bright Zombie, Bob Ross Zombie and pretty much every zombie in sight.
Things took a turn for the worse when a guy actually bit the shit out of my arm. You read that correctly. I said a guy bit me. A little too caught up in his role, you speculate...this guy wasn’t even dressed as a zombie, he was just meeting up with some folks who were. Myself and Kathryn were chatting with him and his group when I said something he found to be funny. He threw his head back in laughter, and when he came forward, he leaned in and locked down on my bicep.
So. Fucking. Weird.
Now, I know I should have punched him in the face, but when someone bites you...hard...out of nowhere...you are so caught off guard/freaked out, you don’t know what to do. Deer in the headlights. I immediately retreated to the restroom where a girl, alarmed by my distressed expression, asked me what happened; when I told her, she grabbed my arm and put it in the sink and started rubbing soap and water on me while yelling “You have got to point that crazy guy out to me, I need to steer clear of him!”
It didn’t break the skin, but there was a bruise immediately. Not to mention bite marks. Everyone that saw it was appalled. It looked terrible. And it hurt. It felt exactly like I had gotten a shot in the arm. It was sore and throbbing for hours afterwards.
Needless to say, this affected my mood significantly. However, I’d been looking forward to this Zombie Crawl and didn’t want crazy biter-dude to ruin mine and my friends’ day. I knew that if I tried to carry on as if everything was fine, my emotions would eventually come back to *bite* me in the ass. I felt like I had been violated. Someone that I didn’t know had inflicted pain upon me, without cause and without warning. It obviously wasn’t the worse thing that could happen, but nonetheless, it left me feeling very uneasy and emotional.
I decided to temporarily remove myself from the group. Time to alone to release negative energy and form a game plan for handling your emotions often proves invaluable when dealing with conflict in group settings. It can mean the difference in a night that ends with sweat streaming down your face while dancing and smiling and a night that ends with mascara streaming down your face while yelling at the cab driver because he refuses to take you through the McDonald’s drive-thru.
My friends were notified that I would be regrouping on a park bench in front of the bar; it’s a good idea to let your everyone know that you will not be chilling in a back alley somewhere, unless of course you are, in which case you should have someone else make all of your decisions. Someone else who understands basic safety precautions.
After a phone call or two, and some time relaxing outside, I headed back into Dark Horse Tavern which was almost completely empty now that the massive herd of zombies had moved on to greener bar stools. Keep that it is now about 4:30 in the afternoon, so the broad daylight was beating down on all this drama. I posted up next to a man in his late 50s; while the bar tender poured my vodka tonic, he poured out his life story. He recounted the details of his recent divorce, which somehow segued into his desire to always do the right thing but not always knowing what the right thing is. I encouraged him to the best of my ability and commended him on his strength and desire to do good. We both felt better after our conversation.
The universe always knows where you need to be...sometimes it just takes a bite in the arm to get you there.
At about 5:30, I rejoined the group and proceeded to have an excellent evening. Here I am, dressed as a zombie and Norman Reedus, who plays Daryl on Walking Dead, showed up at Diesel! No, he did not have his crossbow handy. We chit-chatted in the bathroom line. He asked me my name. We shook hands. It was awesome.
Thank goodness I removed myself from the group. Not only did I enjoy a night of dancing I met a star from one of my favorite TV shows, AND I had the pleasure of sharing encouragement and support with someone who needed it. The universe nailed it once again!
P.S. I still can’t believe a guy bit me.
Special thanks to:
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| Raoul Duke zombie (Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas) |
