October Stories - Clowns
A fear of clowns is not unusual, maybe not as common as being scared of spiders or snakes, but it’s up near the top. It is beneficial to have a healthy fear of many things that we encounter in our lives. This instinct keeps us healthy and alive to see another day. That is how we survive as a species. Clowns fall under the “healthy fear” category for me. I am not a fan, not at all. I would not call it a phobia, which seems to indicate an element of irrationality. There is something sinister at work under all that makeup and having an aversion to clowns is just showing good sense. I have only had a few experiences with these creatures, but they tend to stick in my mind.
I guess the most recent time was at an Allstate company picnic. Neither my wife nor I work for Allstate, we don’t even have them as an insurer, but a friend of a friend gave us tickets for this hot event. There were rides provided by Windy City Amusements, free snacks which people grabbed and hoarded like crummy little misers who have never seen a sack of Harvest Cheddar Sun Chips before, and a collection of those dreaded clowns. They were circulating through the crowds “delighting” the families. The clowns came in many guises: some with props, hobos, sad ones, wacky ones. Regardless of the type, I always play the sad Jeff when they confront me. The key in these situations is not to make eye contact. I use the same strategy when a magician is making his way around a restaurant. One stray glance and he will be at our table squeaking his way through a balloon animal and looking down my wife’s blouse. I just adopt a thousand-yard stare and let them breeze past. Unfortunately, we stumbled upon a group of these clowns taking their break. It was in an out-of-the-way alley between some trees and guard rails. A little stream of dirty water wove its way past their big shoes as they milled around smoking. We walked by swiftly and silently, blending back into the crowd. If they sensed my fear, they would be upon me quickly and I had nothing to fight them off with but a jacket-full of Cool Ranch Doritos.
Rewind the clock a little further and you’ll find my family at an amusement park confronted by the most famous clown of all, Ronald McDonald. I would always joke to my kids that if I ever ran into Ronald, my fists would be white with his face paint and then I would “throw him in the bushes.” It was just a goofy thing I would say to make them laugh. Now here I was face to face with the real thing. My kids said, “There he is, Dad, why don’t you go throw him in the bushes, ha-ha.” I didn’t want to create a scene. Otherwise, it would have been “go” time.
If we are going back, let’s go all the way back. When I was about seven years old, my dad took us to his company’s Christmas event. He worked at Electromotive and I remember having to walk the factory floor of the biggest building I had ever seen, where you could stroll past actual train locomotives. The company had designated booths that contained presents for kids in different age brackets. My dad found the appropriate booth where my brother and I selected our gifts. We must have been the last ones there because it was so quiet. Quiet except for a distant slapping noise that grew louder with each passing second. Finally, the source of the sound came walking around the corner - a clown. I froze and watched as he plodded right on by, his footsteps fading away as my anxiety eased. So weird. That particular clown looked so joyless. I guess his shift was over and he was returning to his real life. He could not muster even a smile for my brother and I. Fine with me, dude. Keep walking.
I know these are real people, that this is a part they are playing. That is what bothers me the most. I feel the same way when confronted by a costumed character or an actor walking through the audience in the middle of a play. They are operating in a different world than ours, this is real life and they are pretending it is not. That dynamic does not work for me. Why do they feel the need to climb into these costumes, apply the makeup, and inhabit a character that will scare the shit out of 99% of the children they encounter? That is not a good ratio, for every one child who laughs, there will be scores of others who won’t be sleeping tonight. To see this first-hand, follow one of these clowns as they make their way through a crowd. They leave a wake of overturned strollers and screaming kids trying desperately to disappear behind their parents' legs. Incidentally, the remaining 1% of children who aren’t swept away by the panicked throngs and actually find these people funny are society's future clowns, magicians, and sideshow performers continuing this tragic legacy for generations to come.
