Costume

I forgot my mask.

Dude, you look ridiculous. You should have forgotten the entire get up. It’s not even a playoff game.

Who cares? It would have been fun.

Too late now. I’m not turning around. We’re gonna be late.

My friend Adam and I were going to the Sixers game. I’d never even thought about dressing up for games before, it’s not who I am, I just don’t do those kinds of things. It’s not that I don’t have a sense of humor or anything, I’m funny as shit, and I’m totally fine with self-deprecating stuff, but I don’t like dressing up, not even for Halloween. I’m a jeans and button-up shirt kind of guy.

Now, I’m stuck wearing a Charles Barkley costume without the mask so it looks completely stupid. My mom made it for me.

Honestly, it looked pretty bad even with the mask, and now I’m wondering if it could be offensive in some way.

Pretty bad? Why don’t you just take it off, forget the costume?

Because the damn thing is so freaking hot, so I only wore briefs underneath.

What?! What the hell is wrong with you?

We laughed so much our eyes watered. I love those laughs. You remember them forever. At least nowadays you do, when they don’t seem to happen as much as they used to.

Last time I had one was at dinner for my wife’s friends’ 40th birthday about 6 months ago, and I told everyone how our son Jack wanted to tell me about the F word so bad, for like, a week, he kept trying different ways to tell me- Daddy, Miles said this word, can I tell you? Daddy I saw this word written on a wall near school, can I tell you?- and I kept telling him I knew what the word was, that he shouldn’t say it. Finally after a week, he found a way. He said, “Daddy, can I call Sam a fuck widget?”

Sam’s his little bro.

Pretty cute. Hilarious actually.

No, dude. Don’t call him that.

So then our friend Brendan starts telling us about how they curse at home, but tell the kids not to say it certain places, and I agree that I think that’s the way to do it, and how I’d always done that with Jack until he started saying shit all the time, and at the wrong time, and it just wasn’t working. Brendan said his 4 year old finishes his sentence when he says, What the…?!

And then he said, sometimes she’ll sit there playing, and doing this rhyming thing, maybe mixing pretend food or something, going, ditch, bitch, everybody snitch, you’re a ditch and a bitch, and a skitch, and just the way he was saying it, singing it like she would, acting like her, and the fact his little daughter was saying that made me laugh so damn hard, and he did it like 3 times, and I kept laughing harder each time.

Adam and I were laughing like that, making jokes about how it would be better if I just went in with briefs on than this racist costume. I didn’t actually think it was racist. It’s not like I just had the mask on. I guess that could be misconstrued somehow.

I don’t even think I can go in, man.

You have to.

Once we got there I said I wouldn’t do it. I looked like an asshole, and couldn’t do it. I should have never done the costume in the first place, I was just trying to be a fun dad, the boys suggested it.

That’s why you should always be yourself, I said. I was trying to be someone I’m not.

He laughed more.

I’m taking style lessons from kids, and now look at me. This is the worst.

I said this as I stuffed my mouth with a hoagie, a quick tailgate dinner before running in for the game.

I have an idea, he said.

He had some dirty running stuff in the trunk.

You can wear this.

Not happening. After you’ve been sweating into that shit. Dude. Smells so bad. Get that outta here. I’m trying to eat.

He’d been training for a half marathon.

No way. I’d rather miss the game. I’d rather go in like this.

So I did.

I went in with the costume on, looked like a jerkoff, and had a great time. Everyone loved it. The people we sat near got the whole story, other people didn’t care, didn’t need to hear it, they were all about it anyway.

As I sat there in my seat, lower level, near the back row, I forgot about the outfit, and just enjoyed the game. Every once in a while I’d drift away, and look at everyone else, 20 thousand fans packed in tight, together, all so different from one another, but maybe not as much as you’d think.