True Story (VIII)

We haven’t had a True Story in a while, so…

I looked a bit like this.

The various online videos from Orlando touting the boy who lived at number four Privet Drive remind me of the two times I’ve dressed up as Harry Potter.  (Oh, how I wish I had a digital photo somewhere!)

Yes indeed:  striped rugby shirt, proper cape, poor British accent, pointy hairsprayed, dyed black hair, famous red scar on me forehead, with, of course, a Nimbus broomstick and the proper glasses taped together at the bridge.

I would walk around saying, in me worst Cockney, “‘Ello, I’m ‘arry Potter!”

Now, I was– am– a huge fan of the brilliant J.K. Rowling books.  Maybe not as knowledgeable as other similarly geek-y friends (and God knows when the books first came out, when I was working at a now-defunct Borders in L.A., I resisted the series, feeling a wee ‘above it all’), but I’ve traipsed through France, waiting for bedtime so I find out if Dumbledore was to live or die!), but a huge fan who devoured ’em all, on the page and on CD with the brilliant Jim Dale.

Like this?

So the first time was Halloween, years ago, and though I was in my twenties, dressing as the boy wizard was somehow accepted; I mean, it’s Halloween, I hopped in the city between a restaurant and two parties, and people seemed charmed.

The second time was at a movie theater in Ridgefield Park, NJ.  Not a good idea.

Somehow I decided I would reprise me Potter act as I went with a dear friend (of-the-blog) to the opening of the first flick (at the time we had no idea how disappointing the Potter flicks would be, save one).  I expected a few giggles, a few laughs, a few charmed smiles from students.

What I got was snide ‘tweens laughingly cruelly at the (well, it has to be said) adult dressed as Mr. H. Potter, cupboard-under-the-stairs.  The sad mockery got so bad I had to resort to telling people I was hired by the movie theater.

Like this?!

Suffice to say, if I ever make it to Orlando, I’m not dressing up.  But I do have my Halloween costume for this already planned.  (Shh, it’s a secret.)

Sigh.  True story.

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