Tinky Winky Throws Down

Halloween is my favorite holiday - it's the one day of the year where you can dress in a parrot costume to school and peck students on the head.

My aide was the pirate. He'd throw a walking stick on the ground which I'd perch on and caw, mimicking the students.

"Who are you supposed to be Mister?" they'd ask.

"Who you supposed to be, who you supposed to be?" I'd caw back in a high pitched voice.

"He's that fruit loops bird!"

"Yeah, he's that fruit loops dude! Hey, you got any fruit loops?"

"No, fruit loops." SQUAWK! "No candy! None for you! None for you!" SQUAWK!

Twenty classrooms later I was exhausted. Running around the room and flapping wings all sounds like fun and games, but it's hard work.

I also got really irritated that people kept asking me if I wanted a cracker.

That night I went out to a Joe Leyva's Halloween bash in far off Arcadia off the 210, with Phil, the Patster, and Varga. Varga was dressed a a red skinned devil (the slick debonair Devil), Phi and old time baseball player, and Pat as John McCain with a heavy mask. I went as a pirate, but someone said I looked like Meatloaf. Someone else said I looked like Harvey Feirstein from Independence day. (That's the gay guy who gets blown up about 35 minutes in.)

Assholes.

It was free to enter, but the shitty drinks were $9 a piece. We also had to get patted down by security, a sad state of affairs in LA. (Even in sad lonesome Arcadia.)

We got to the club and the place was full of people, everyone in costume. There were police, nylon stocking nurses, dark fairies, arab shieks, amazonian warriors, masked bandits, princesses, strutting Asian viking warriors with upside down horns, powder puff football girls, mardi gras masked revelers, red bull angels, roman centurions, cat women, four teletubbies and of course pirates!

I wandered on the dance floor and an attractive woman started dancing with me. "This song takes me back!" she shouted.

"Me too!"

"I'm ancient!" she cried.

"So am I!"

"I bet I'm older!" she called out.

"When did you graduate high school?"

"1977!"

I got her a drink.

After about an hour Varga's girlfriend Shalini and her friend KaVita joined us. Dolled up in tight sexy dresses, neither of them was in costume, but then hot chicks don't have to be in costume. A cute girl can get into any club or backstage at any concert, it's one of their superpowers.

With no easy place to stand we crowded into a hallway and took photos. We wanted to get photos with a full sized animatronic mummy, but Shalini knocked the head off.

We all feigned ignorance and walked away.

KaVita and I went onto the dance floor and danced a few sets. I am not a great dancer, I am not even a good dancer, but whenever I start dancing I always remind myself of an old saying:

"You don't have to be faster then the bear, just faster the someone else."

I may not be the best on the dance floor, but I'm often better then someone else.

We walked outside and KaVita told me she owns a grocery/gift store deep in the Inland Empire. She's a Sikh, which surprised me. I would have guessed Persian, or Hindu. She had fine, chiseled features and olive colored skin, features that were both universal and exotic, Kavita could fit in anywhere and simultaneously stand out at the same time.

it was then that the fight broke out. Two of the tele-tubbies, Tinky Winky and Laa-Laa, were fighting with an Arab Shiek and a bald headed cholo with a sleeve of tattoos. Fists flew, bodies pressing against one another as half a dozen men tried to pull them apart.
(Tinky Winky is the "gay" one, he's purple. Laa-Laa is yellow, I looked it up.)

Go Tinky! Go Tinky!

Suddenly, a gun was brandished. "Everyone get the fuck down! I'll shoot your ass!" A voice in the crowd bellowed.

No one stopped fighting. From where we were sitting, no one could see who had whipped out the gun.

Unsure of what to do, I remained still, praying no one was going to get shot. KaVita got nervous and moved behind me, then two other girls decided that was a smart idea and did the same, backing into a corner. I was both flattered and annoyed that my duty was now to be bullet shield.

Thirty seconds later we could see it was a security guard who had the gun, and the fight was broken up. The Arab was tossed onto the ground and handcuffed. Tinky Winky and Laa-Laa were taken aside for questioning. Other bully boys were told to hit the road.

Half a dozen squad cars arrived and a police helicopter buzzed overhead. The party was officially over. KaVita and I met up with Varga and Shalini.

The Arab was still handcuffed on the ground. "You see that," Varga pointed, "even when the Arabs are dressed up in costume, they're causing problems."

"True that."

We escorted the girls back to their car and a cop told us to leave.

The fights over, I wanted to scream. You guys must have got nothing to do! Instead I just politely nodded and we went back to Varga's apartment.

The police in LA can be assholes, even in far off lonesome Arcadia.