• The Tale of the Masquerade


    I can still hear the thunderous cheering when the crowd erupted into applause; even now it causes my heart to flutter like a caged bird. Just the simple memory of that sound swells my chest with that undeniable tightness. Those bright beams of light that shone down upon the others and myself was so intense they made my eyes water. Later, I found I had had been crying with joy. The thick eyeliner that had so lovingly adorned my eyes was running, but I had not a care about it. All I knew was that we had done it. We had done exactly what we had set out that morning aiming to do.

    There is this feeling when one performs, a certain euphoria of the senses. It occurs right as one gets on the stage and lasts even after they left it; rock stars, comedians, etc. I personally know this feeling; it is borderline amnesia for the time you perform. It is hard to remember what happens right after you perform, it's damn near impossible to recall anything once your foot leaves the stage. On that unforgettable summer night, that feeling caressed my mind and body, my entire being.

    The scent of the ocean will always put a smile on my face. Just that salty, bitter chill morbidly calms my soul. I remember sitting on the last seats of the ferry, kicking my legs like the young girl I was. It was early for me, a whopping ten-fifteen in the morning when the ferry set out to carry me to the opposite shore. I can still feel the harsh soreness that clung to my tired eyes, the crusty lenses refusing to open to let the light in. Even though the gorgeous sea stared at me, I kept my pulsing eyes closed for the trip. When we docked about fifteen minutes later, I was forced to reopen my aching blue-grey twins to look towards my passing shuttle bus. I frowned deeply, I hated missing things. I remember that surging, dishearten feeling pumping through my head as I sighed heavily, trudging towards the spot where my dearly departed shuttle, only to perk up when one came around after only a minute or two. I gazed down at my watch with glee, and then gave the face of it sour look. I was late for my meeting; I hated being late for things like that.

    I finally arrived at the massive glass building and flashed my orange entrance badge, (I had preordered back in April, this was July.) I had to wade through the waves of pop culture fanatics just to get up the escalators. I wandered lost for a good deal of ten minutes to find the meeting room. I was chastised by my friends; I nodded about being late and whimpered lightly, nodding my head as they informed me of what I missed. We, which included Suzushi, (The master of our group and costume creator), Kevin, (our resident pretty boy and my fellow performer) and myself, had to come up with our dance/performance routine we failed to compose due to lack of time and preparation beforehand. We had work to do, work which started as soon as we could find our CD with the music.

    I recall the laughter of anticipation as I watched Kevin throw down his moves on the practice stage, that thumping as he flipped through the air like a mobster's coin. I would have never guessed he was such a wonderful acrobat, then again I had never met him before this day. But I couldn't rid myself of that teenage surge of hormones that drew me to his gorgeous face. I look back and laugh at how I felt that night, I was such a child. But the fact remains at how my little heart was shot with pangs of attraction to him, even though I know it would have never worked out between us. Besides, he and Suzushi were together. But I digress, it wasn't just my fascination for him that lived on that small stage, it was the enchanting allure of the music. I felt my limbs move on their own accord as my hands ghosted over Suzushi's form, faux-entrapping her in a trance. I laughed to myself; the music and my hand movements had matched up interestingly perfect. Our hour of practice passed, and we had our routine written, and memorized to a point. I felt that swelling pride grow in my chest, forming like a delightful cancer in my heart. However, we were still a few good hours away from performance; it was nap time now.

    For a good portion of three hours we did nothing; I adored every moment of my selfish lassitude. It felt so wonderful to splay out on the lumpy mattress that was our tote and coat bags, yawning like a weary little kitten. It was during these blissfully lazy hours Kevin, his friend whose name has escaped my memory, Suzushi and I talked about nothing in particular. My eyes blinked slowly as a stole glances over at that day's object of my affection. I reminisce about a certain incident involve a rather crude, though harmless joke about my cleavage and what a heavy bonk on the head I delivered. Our time came up, however, when the dull beating of my heart reached my ears and it was time to get ready for the night. It started with slipping into our costumes, (not as easy as it sounds), I started with make-up first. My eyeliner took an insane amount of time, a full hour I believe, and I winced from that soreness that flooded my vision once again. It didn't matter to me, we were due to the green room within the hour, and my brain almost couldn't take the excitement. My chest grew tight for the first time that night, as the feeling bulged between my ribcage. And I don't think it was the corset.

    It was our time; however, a little thing called hunger had struck us at the worse moment. We grumbled and growled in the green room, clutching our stomachs like the starving fools we were; we had time to get lunch, yes, but we just lacked the funds. As if on some bizarre cue, our helpers that had assisted us throughout the day shoved their way into the room, (off-limits to any non-performers, unless you have a set of wondrous backstage passes), with bags of sandwiches and other treats for us. I, as well as my stomach, thanked our lucky stars as I carefully munched on my own sandwich. A grand wave of relief swept over me as my hungry quickly vanished and my sweet tooth tantalized by gummy bears.

    One by one, the numbers were called for the entrants, ours was 43 out of 50, and so we had to wait a bit. I held the hands of one of our helpers, who happened to be an old friend of mine, and Suzushi's hand as we sat there in our buckets-of-sweat anticipation. At one point, I felt ill with excitement, and I decided it was time to lay off the gummy bears and sour worms and artificial sugary goodness until the end of the night. I laid my sweat hand upon my chest, trying to quell the tsunami that was my heart rate.

    It was our time to shine. The backstage committee of this masquerade, (for that’s what it is called) led us away down the eerie grey hallways, in the underbelly of the convention center. I remember during my nervous trudge through those halls, I grew shaky and rather spastic. I couldn't breathe, I was near hyperventilation. At first, I could have sworn there was something wrong with me, something terrible that required medical attention, however, now I know it was just extreme anxiety and my own nerves. Not to mention the stress that came when our most prized musical cue in our entire skit was delayed. I have never felt so faint in my life that I did at that moment, I could have sworn I was going to pass out right there behind the curtain. My chest heaved breaths as I'm sure my eyes glazed over with worry. I felt lightheaded, on the verge of passing out when I heard our cue after what seemed an eternity. It was our turn to shine.

    If one wants to truly get a rise out of a targeted audience, one must envision what will get their best reaction. That had been our plan the whole time. We targeted the weakness of a certain group of young women who flock to conventions such as these; we showed them what they loved the most. And the sound of it was deafening. Aside from the incident with our cue, our performance was stellar, we couldn't have been any happier. The cliché, "I feel like I've died and gone to Heaven," I honestly felt that way the moment our skit ended, even when I was on the ground, pretending to be dead, (Despite the fact they killed me in the skit, I had no objections to it). The tears of joy poured from my heavily darkened eyes, trickling like the dew-covered threads of a spider's web as I was literally dragged off stage. I'm pretty sure the erupted squeal that shot from my mouth could have been easily heard over the insane roaring of the crowd.

    The night ended as the previous year's had; we had won nothing of value, nothing of standing. We had only won the audience's, (for the most part) admiration, and it was much better than any award they could have given us. Until the next time my feet grace that stage, each beat of my heart will remind me of the night we took the world of the San Diego Comic Con Masquerade by storm.