For the past four years I have had the pleasure of playing the Easter Bunny at a local mall. While others complain about the hot suit and the whiney children, all I can think to do is feel lucky. I remember going to the mall to visit Santa and the Easter Bunny and being excited by it all day. I got to dress up, have my picture taken, and spend a few minutes with someone that I only ever get to hear about. The few days before Easter are my favorite. There are more children than ever before and their parents have them dressed to the nines for pictures that will be sent to grandparents, godparents, and people who you call “aunt” and “uncle” but aren’t really your aunt and uncle. The line of people extends down the ramp and around the indoor fountain and the voices of the children are audible before I can even see a single one of them. Finally someone spots me and my escort and before you know it the kids are jumping up and down, tugging on their parents and singing my good praises. “There he his! There he is!” As I make my way up to the stage I wave to everyone, blow them kisses, and make a heart with my hands. I stole that last bit from Taylor Swift. The kids never get much time to spend with the Easter Bunny so I try to make sure they all get a hug or a high five before their time is up, and the next kid is on my lap. Even though I am always touched by the excitement and awe of the children, this year I found myself getting a little choked up inside my big fury head. They all waited there just to see me. Well, me as the Easter Bunny. This is what it must feel like to be famous, to be adored by the masses. It reminded me of when I met Tina Fey. Tina Fey is my Easter Bunny.
The Waiting Game
The second time I saw her on “Saturday Night Live” I was hooked on Tina Fey. The first time I saw her I despised her because she was cute, witty, and everyone laughed at the things she said. That was supposed to be me. But once I considered that our blatant similarities may actually be something that affirms how talented I am, I quickly embraced her. When she left SNL I was afraid that forcing me to quit her cold turkey would send me into a deep downward spiral and I would get hooked on some street comedienne like Kathy Griffith (no disrespect to my favorite D-Lister). Thank God for “30 Rock,” the little T.V. show that could. When it won the Emmy for best comedy in its first season I was part of the “tens of viewers” that Tina thanked in her acceptance speech. Five seasons later I still can’t get enough of 30 Rock or its mastermind creator. When Tina’s book, Bossypants, was published I thanked sweet little baby Jesus that I worked at a bookstore and was able to grab it exactly as it hit the shelves. I read the first half the night I got it and read the second on a spontaneous bus ride to New York in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the honorable Miss Fey at a live interview at a Barnes & Noble. When I got into the city I met up a couple of friends and we eventually made our way to the bookstore.
We asked a woman at the front door what the procedure was for seeing my lady love, and were quickly told that we would not be able to see her. Apparently, there was some sort of little red ticket system that I was unaware of and had I been there much earlier I might have had a chance. My friends all turned and looked at me like they expected me to either pass out or all Dog Day Afternoon on this lady’s ass. While I will admit, I was momentarily devastated, my attention turned to some people going upstairs who were carrying Bossypants. I had my Bossypants, could I go upstairs? I don’t really know what came over me, but I suddenly felt very sleuth like and crept away from my friends and up the stairs. One of my friends saw me and gave me that squinty eyed What are you doing? kind of look. Well obviously I was ascending a staircase that I was not permitted to be on. When I got to the second floor, I saw about four people in some sort of segregated, non ticket holder kind of line. This was the group who would only be allowed upstairs if time permitted. I was standing there for about fifteen minutes before I saw my friends come up.
Looking back, I don’t know why I didn’t call one of them and tell them they could come up to. It must have been Fey Fever, it’s much more severe than Beiber Fever. By this time the line had grown a little and my friends were about twenty people behind me. A little bit of time went by, maybe half an hour, and these two women in front of me started complaining about how long the wait was. Even though I wanted to scream at them about how it had only been maybe an hour, and how any length of time is worth waiting for Tina Fey, I instead tried to encourage them to leave. This line was for the optimists. For the people who always clapped their hands for Tinkerbell to come back to life. If these chicks were too good to wait, I would help them leave.
I finally chimed in. “Yeah, I’m thinking about leaving, too. I mean, and hour?! Come on! Geez!” I was really hamming it up for these idiots. “This is ridiculous! It’s not even worth it!” These bitches were about as stupid as they come. They needed to go, and go they eventually did. I was finally the third person in the line! Well, the third person in the second line. A couple of hours later all hell broke loose as our barricade was finally dismantled and we were allowed upstairs. Sure, there was still more waiting to be done upstairs, but I was stoked. Time moved slowly, and so did the line, until I was finally close enough to see Her. There was a perfect storm of freakish excitement and the freakishly close proximity of strangers that was making start to sweat pretty profusely.
A Lyrical Genius Is Born
A short time later I was up on the stage where Tina was signing books. She was so
close! I could see her fingernails! My first thought was that she has very clean hands. I
didn’t expect them to be dirty, but I also didn’t expect to want to be staring at them so
much. I had to give it to those hands, though. They probably spent weeks writing scripts
for “30 Rock” and there they were, writing still. There I was, thinking about her clean
hands, and WAM! I’m now the one in front and she’s signing my book! I was going to
beat myself up about it forever if I didn’t say anything to her. I thought back to earlier in
the week when I had joked with my friends about getting Tina to name her child after me,
because at the time she was pregnant with her second child. Here’s the dialogue:
Me: “I love you. Name your daughter Bevin.”
Tina: “What is it?
Me: “Bevin.”
Tina: “I’ll put it on the list.”
Me: “Okay.”
I know what you’re thinking; I am a goddamn lyrical genius and no one can touch
me when it comes to spoken word. Oh, well. Meeting celebrities was never something I
handled with grace. Once I met Shirley Jones and all I could say was Hi, before I wept
uncontrollably for the two hours that followed. What can I say, I’m blinded by shining
stars and Tina was no different.
The whole thing was over before I even knew what happened and the next person was already in my place. The same was true of the line of kids at the mall. They all stand waiting patiently in line and their visit is over before they know it. The nice part though, is that even with just a quick visit, they’re elated. And even though I didn’t have the luxury of sitting on Tina’s lap, bragging to her about how good I’ve been all year, and what kind of candy I like, I was elated too.
And for the record, I have been good all year, and I like snickers.
