Usually, the holiday of Purim brings out the silly in everyone.
Everywhere you go in Israel, people are decked out in costume.
So, we weren’t surprised to find two big head costumed guys at a hotel we came to scout for a later event.
The two big heads, however, had nary an audience.
The hotel was nearly empty thanks to the coronavirus scare that is keeping many people from public spaces.
The big heads were delighted to see us.
They weren’t prepared to meet a clown. I wasn’t wearing my red nose, but I always have my clown with me.
“Where’d you come from?” they asked.
“Our car,” I replied.
That was not the answer they were expecting.
One of them didn’t know how to react and stood frozen.
The other attempted to veer off script.
“And you got out so well,” he said.
Yay! A sparring partner?
We bantered a bit. Turns out my sparring partner wasn’t ready to truly joke off script.
The conversation ended so that we could walk around the hotel.
When we came through the lobby to leave, the entertainers were sitting on a couch, with their big heads beside them.
“A good time and place to air your heads,” I noted.
They started explaining how hot it is under those costumes.
They missed the hilarity of the image we saw: two big heads without bodies resting on a couch; beside them two big bodies with small heads.
They quickly put their heads back on to follow their scripted assignment. They were hired to entertain guests. But there weren’t many.
“Would you like a photo with us?” they asked, following their script.
“Not really but thank you. But would you like a photo with us?” I asked in return.
They didn’t know. They did chuckle, though.
They were hired to create fun. But they were so serious. They were so adamant on sticking with the job description instead of accepting what there was. Which, was, not much.
Other than a clownish mom and her family.
Nonsense can make reality so much more fun when you are really in the moment; when you agree to veer off from the “script of what actuality should be” and accept the experience of now for what it is.
The two mascots fiddled with their costumes. I used the mirror game to break the tension of their unwavering need to entertain us with silly sayings while we were not anywhere near the scripted audience they had been told to expect.
It didn’t take long.
They relaxed.
They laughed. At themselves. At the situation.
We wished one another Happy Purim and went our separate ways.
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