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HUMAN MANNEQUIN.
[AVAILABLE SINCE: 05 JUNE, 2001]
I was walking through Times Square last evening and I saw one
of those 'human mannequin' performers that crowds still inexplicably
coo over. This mannequin was obese, painted blue from head to
toe (that's part of the theatricality, i think - painting yourself
up a distinctive color. i'm assuming the recent hyper-saturation
of this type of street performer gave rise to this kind of need
for personal decoration.), and squat-seated on an upside-down
5-gallon cole slaw drum. His attention was committed to an Off-Track
Betting racing form and, as far as I could tell, he wasn't particularly
gifted with the art of being perfectly still. He would grunt and
cough into his chest with pretty organic regularity. Additionally,
as he turned the pages of the racing form, or turned it over in
his hands, there was nothing especially mechanical about it. He
just did as he pleased.
Not surprisingly, he was not exactly attracting a crowd. Most
of the tourists were preoccupied with the Gold Mannequin 15 feet
away. This guy knew the business. He was executing staggered robot
dance moves in-synch with a hidden hand buzzer that simulated
futuristic buzzes with each mechanical sweep of his arms, torso,
and head. He had a small gold-painted coffee can stuffed with
low-denomination bills, resting at his gold-painted feet. By contrast,
the Blue Mannequin had a Popeye's chicken box at his feet. It
wasn't Blue - just plain Popeye's Chicken colors. And it was empty,
except for three small pieces of popcorn shrimp cowering in one
of its corners.
As the Gold Mannequin accrued a larger crowd (it was getting
close to curtain time for Broadway shows so i imagine many of
the ticket holders were divided between two activities right now:
shopping for 'fucking new york fucking city' t-shirts or throwing
a few minutes and dollars at street performers), it became more
and more obvious to me that I was the only person attending to
the Blue Mannequin. I suppose I thought he'd improve under pressure,
with an audience. He didn't. In fact, I'm not an expert in the
field but to the casual observer I was probably doing a much better
job at being quiet and still.
Finally, after studying him for about eight minutes, he looked
up from his racing form and said, "Do you mind? Can I have a little
privacy here, buddy?" And even though he was just an overweight
man painted blue and not a true Blue Mannequin, and this was really
all just a strange coincidence, I still wish he showed more respect
for the form. He should know that speaking to crowd is Human Mannequin
Don't #1. (P.S. HM Don't #2 is, curiously, 'Never Fall In Love'.
and #3 is 'No Paddle-Ball Tricks = Career Suicide'. I sent away
for the handbook.)
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