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The rainbow connection
Mar. 10th, 2004 12:06 pmPaul and Aaron were the closest of friends during college.
After Paul left due to fiduciary constraints and Aaron went to clown school, they stayed in touch but when Aaron moved to the southwest the lines of communication accidentally atrophied to tins cups and some dental floss stretched taut between them.
Marriage so often seems to innocently tear at the fibrous bonds of hetero male relationships. Years blew by and I felt more than partially responsible for the great divide.
Armed with Aaron's first and last name, the city in which he lived and a snootful of good intentions, I sat down with the white pages and started making phone calls...
*ring*
"Hello?"
"Hello, yes, is this Aaron Tucker?"
"Yes."
"Is this Aaron Tucker - the clown?"
"Well, my wife says I am pretty funny..."
"I meant actually a clown, like a guy with make-up and floppy shoes?"
"Oh no, that isn't me."
"Sorry to bother you, thank you - goodbye!"
I made three more phone calls just like that and when I inquired if the person on the phone was a clown, every single guy started to spin a tale about how he could really yuck it up at parties or at company staff meetings.
The fourth call I finally hit gold.
Aaron came to visit later that year and I finally got to know him a little better than I did, other than Paul painting glowing college pictures for me. Aside from him being funny as hell and remarkably genuine guy, he talked about his time with the circus and filled me on various insider information. Evidently, clowns who wear white face under their makeup are involved in some longstanding feud with those who wear make-up without white face.
This information of course conjured up in my mind some sort of ridiculous surreal scene of the "white face" jets ominously circling the "skin" sharks while the music from West Side story plays over a calliope in the background.
Everyone is armed with bananas...
Flash forward to day before yesterday, Aaron loaded up his car with everything he owns to move back to this coast. He should be walking up the drive of our ugly homestead right about now. He is going to stay a couple of days. I hope he hangs out until Saturday because I can't think of anyone else I would want to go to my first NASCAR event with.
After Paul left due to fiduciary constraints and Aaron went to clown school, they stayed in touch but when Aaron moved to the southwest the lines of communication accidentally atrophied to tins cups and some dental floss stretched taut between them.
Marriage so often seems to innocently tear at the fibrous bonds of hetero male relationships. Years blew by and I felt more than partially responsible for the great divide.
Armed with Aaron's first and last name, the city in which he lived and a snootful of good intentions, I sat down with the white pages and started making phone calls...
*ring*
"Hello?"
"Hello, yes, is this Aaron Tucker?"
"Yes."
"Is this Aaron Tucker - the clown?"
"Well, my wife says I am pretty funny..."
"I meant actually a clown, like a guy with make-up and floppy shoes?"
"Oh no, that isn't me."
"Sorry to bother you, thank you - goodbye!"
I made three more phone calls just like that and when I inquired if the person on the phone was a clown, every single guy started to spin a tale about how he could really yuck it up at parties or at company staff meetings.
The fourth call I finally hit gold.
Aaron came to visit later that year and I finally got to know him a little better than I did, other than Paul painting glowing college pictures for me. Aside from him being funny as hell and remarkably genuine guy, he talked about his time with the circus and filled me on various insider information. Evidently, clowns who wear white face under their makeup are involved in some longstanding feud with those who wear make-up without white face.
This information of course conjured up in my mind some sort of ridiculous surreal scene of the "white face" jets ominously circling the "skin" sharks while the music from West Side story plays over a calliope in the background.
Everyone is armed with bananas...
Flash forward to day before yesterday, Aaron loaded up his car with everything he owns to move back to this coast. He should be walking up the drive of our ugly homestead right about now. He is going to stay a couple of days. I hope he hangs out until Saturday because I can't think of anyone else I would want to go to my first NASCAR event with.
