Walking along Washington Avenue during the early morning hours of October 19, it isn’t likely one could miss the blood. Little spatters and streaks and puddles that weave between the sidewalk cracks and cloud the corners of store windows, fading on the edges as finger paint does. It oozes into the sleepiness of a Minneapolis Sunday so subtly that the usual Monday traffickers might not notice them at all. Fall breezes had dried up the sticky smatterings overnight, returning with the day to taunt the Avenue’s cars and bars and street signs, and to awaken the blood -drenched strips of cloth and Kleenex that cluttered it. In less than a minute, the mischievous wind had given legs to those little horrors, whisking them into a flimsy, disgusting dance; a nauseating tribute to some happening that must have been momentous but can only be conveyed halfheartedly by its vague yet enticing entrails.
What one wouldn’t encounter on this morning stroll are the many thousands of photographs and boozy memories that had been born alongside the dancing horrors. But even without them, the breeze would betray their secret, for it would not carry with it the smell of death or carnage. In fact it couldn’t, because the blood crusted on Washington Avenue is not real blood, and the only crime it traces is perhaps not even a crime at all. You see, the dark but not-so-stormy night of Saturday, October 18, marked the fourth annual Zombie Pub Crawl, the attendees of which could be accused of nothing more than partying too hard and leaving their “bloody” litter behind. The “blood” being of any combination of make-up, imitation blood and fake ooze contained in all sizes of tanks, tubs and tubes – all of which could be purchased at Twin Cities Magic & Costume Co. in St. Paul for 10 percent off with a printed coupon from Zombie Pub Crawl IV: Spawn of Death’s official web site. “Go Get Zombified!”
And Zombified they were. Young and old, sober and not, from every corner of Minnesota and beyond, the undead marched in droves.
Seeping, groaning, limping, drooling,
squirting, spooking, gnashing, stalking,
spitting, grimacing –
Reapplying, reattaching,
retracing, resonating, reeling,
reentering, repositioning, repeating –
“Braaaaaiins!”
From the Stone Arch Bridge, a group of four zombie cohorts could hear the cry. Rising from what they knew to be the legendary Gold Medal Park, a grassy knoll next door to the Guthrie Theater, it came from the hordes of living humans who were gathering to “undeaden” before the commencement of the ZPC. The sound of those monstrous voices mingling caused the foursome to quicken in walk – er, stalk – and let out their own zombie cacophony in reply:
“Muurrrrrrm... Guuuuuugg…Braaaaaiins!”
Their humor wasn’t well-received.
“Don’t worry, they’re not real,” one man said to the wide-eyed little girl he pushed in a stroller. His gaze was more menacing than the hooligans who had provoked it.
The guilt must have made Justin Michlig’s skin melt. Decked in a plaid shirt which appeared to have been used as a napkin for someone’s bloody fingers, Justin stopped shortly after the encounter to peel off a plastic scar from above his left eyebrow. He tossed it onto the bridge in distaste – much to the delight and horror of another child crossing the zombies’ staggered path. Wary to scare the pudgy, black-haired boy, the gang compensated for their deviltry by straightening their backbones and smiling sheepishly. Their teeth had been made as rotten as their faces.
“You look kinda dumb!” the pudgy boy called, causing a surprised eruption of very human cackles. Quickly gaining composure, John Pozniak, a pale, shortish zombie with a bolt sticking haphazardly out of his forehead, mustered for the child his signature shriek – the sound of which was something in between a pterodactyl and a whistle.
The child gobbled it right up.
Meanwhile, more zombie frenzies – fiercer now – flared in the distance.
From somewhere within the fray, which swallowed up Jake, Justin and John with frightful ease, Heather Esperson and her own band of zombies undeadened, slathering their pretty, upper-twenty-something faces with gauzy white cream and rimming their eyes to the cheekbone with filthy-grey rings of costume eyeliner. In a frightful flurry of “scabbing” fingers and dollar-bin brushes, they transformed like squirming caterpillars into a larger, more hauntingly graceful version of the laughing corpses they had been during their college days in Winona, Minnesota. There they had been few in a tiny fistful – 50 zombies maximum – of marching, boozing, breathing shadows of un-death.
In those days, Heather and her friends were just glad to be around those of “similar humor – as in they all enjoy wearing makeup and getting drunk.” But as age can not elude un-death, the draw of the Minneapolis ZPC for the Winonians was not the alcohol.
“Some people feel they have to be drunk in order to justify wearing a costume and makeup in public… But I think I have reached a point where I’m just happy to be dressed up… with a bunch of other creative people that find it fun as well.”
Such creativity!
And not even on Halloween!
For many of the zombies, it’s the makeup and costumes that have them staggering back year after year. Some are a little grayer. Some are a little greener. Some are a little whiter. Some have dripping blood. Some have exposed bone. Some have worms or ripped skin or rotting flesh. “It’s fun because there’s no generic zombie,” said Jim Berg of Twin Cities Magic & Costume Co. –
Just
zombie
babies
zombie prom queens zombie police officers zombie workmen zombie clowns zombie athletes zombie Jesus zombie scientists
zombie Michael Jackson zombie photographers
zombie wedding party
zombie pirates
zombie doctors zombie Hooters girls
zombie housewives zombie soldiers zombie bikers zombie bakers zombie bumblebees zombie Statue of Liberty
zombie hoboes:
“Will work for Braaaaaiins!”
Avid horror fan and two-time crawler William Earl Wheeler led the pack.
“The biggest lure of the Zombie Pub Crawl is dressing like a zombie... Sometimes you need to step outside the box, the comfort zone or the every drone of a life stuck in a rut. Try something new, change a parameter or cause a little jolt in somebody’s life to make an impression. It does not have to be a bad impression, but an impression to get a smile, a laugh, a chat or even meet somebody as a friend. This event can, and [it] has done that for myself and friends in my group. Even though it's scary to some, morbid to others; yet to us it's unique and built around people that love to be very open-minded.”
It started with 15 people four years ago, and the hype has groan and groan (and grown). “I hear ZPC: IV was estimated around 1,500 zombies,” Wheeler said. “The hype is real.”
By the time evening sets in on October 19, the blood along Washington Avenue has lost its squeamish sheen. Makeup has been washed down drains in torrents, and shredded, stained and scandalous costumes alike have been tossed away or hung behind very-human suits and scarves and Sunday best to await next year’s crawl. Thousands of pictures have been posted online, which will decorate Facebook pages and Flickr websites until Halloween snapshots come to haunt in their place.
At the bars, it’s business as usual.
Except you can’t moan for discounted drinks.
No comments:
Post a Comment