Career wise, I'm the Black Sheep of the family. My sister is a doctor. My brother is a lawyer, and I'm a stand-up comic. She got dropped off at ballet. He got dropped at a tutor, and I got dropped on my head. I was glad when that family story finally came out, because it made a lot of my career choices make more sense. I mean, I was a mascot - for a bank.
It was Red Key Bank, so I was a big Red...Key. I might have scared some children. Big clown shoes, red tights, suspenders held up a red cylinder with the tooth part of the key sticking out sideways from my knees. Big clown gloves, and my detachable head was the rounded part where you'd hold the key to turn it. I don't think I even had a name. I was just a red key. I'd go to the Indy 500 Parade luncheons and shake the hands of parade princesses and astronauts. The disparaging difference in aptitude is embarrassing. Hey, not everyone can be a key.
One gig I had for this mascot, was being part of the half time entertainment for the Indianapolis Ice, at their last game in Market Square Arena. I go out on to the ice and they shut down the lights in the arena except for a spot light on me on center ice. Then comes the deafening beat of Michael Jackson's "Billy Jean." Oh yeah, I got my Jackson on, and moon walked like the red key disco dream I was. You can do anything on ice, even in clown shoes.
The show's over, and I go downstairs to my little locker room to change out of my...key. I take off my head piece, and hold it under my arm. I'm so used to the clown shoes by now, I don't even notice them. But I did notice that I was walking right by the hockey player's locker room. Like a Fabio cover shoot, steam is billowing out, as some hunky hockey player appears through the clouds, wrapped in towel the size of a handkerchief and he is staring at me. I lock eyes with him and now it's slow motion. I'm thinking "oh... yeah..." then I look down at my clown feet and think "oh... no..."
Because of my stature, sometimes people tell me that they expect me to date a professional athlete. I guess I blew my chance. But I'm happy being a clown.