Defining Moments

There comes a time in one’s life when something extraordinary will happen and define the course of future events.

For instance, when Prince Charming placed the glass slipper on Cinderella’s petite foot, we knew that they would marry and live Happily Ever After.  And when the Prince kissed Snow White in the forest, waking her from her apple-induced coma, we knew that they would marry and live Happily Ever After.  And when (yet another) Prince kissed Sleeping Beauty in the castle, (also) waking her from her spindle wheel pricking curse, we knew that they would marry and live Happily Ever After.

Hmmm…there seems to be a pattern here.

Maybe we should look at more “realistic” defining moments, like on the Real Housewives.

For instance, at a dinner party on the Real Housewives of New Jersey, Teresa Giudice calls co-star Danielle Staub a “prostitution whore” and then flips a table over, abruptly ending the party and catapulting Teresa into reality star royalty.  And at a dinner party on the Real Housewives of New York, Aviva Drescher announces that the “only thing artificial or fake about me, it THIS,” before slamming her amputated leg on the table, ending yet another Housewife party prematurely and getting her fired from the next season of the show.  And, at a dinner party on the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, Kim Richards threatens to expose dark secrets in co-star Lisa Rinna’s marriage, causing Lisa to lunge across the table and try to choke Kim, before picking up a glass, throwing water in her face, and then smashing the glass on the table as if she was a villain from an old western movie.  This climatic episode made fans question Kim Richard’s on-again, off-again sobriety, and Lisa Rinna’s on-again, off-again sanity.

Hmmm…maybe these aren’t so much defining moments as they are dinner parties from hell.

The dictionary classifies a Defining Moment as “a point at which the essential nature or character of a person is revealed or identified”.  I’ve been trying to figure out if there has been an occurrence in my life that fits this description.  Without a Happily Ever After or a disastrous dinner party on my resume, I didn’t think I qualified.  But then it hit me.  There was something that happened to me many years ago that truly did set the course for the next ten years of my life…and it involved a nightmare parade, an unruly crowd, and a giant rodent by the name of Nut Meg.

Many people actually know the story I’m about to tell, but it is something I haven’t spoken of for quite some time, mainly on the advice of my therapist, psychologist, psychiatrist, hypnotist, family counselor, electroshock administrator, rehab specialist, priest and neighborhood bartender.  As I’m learning to come to terms with my past to move ahead with my future, this is now a story that needs to be retold, starting from the very beginning.

Disclaimer:  The tale you are about to read is a true story.  Names have been changed to protect the innocent, and (mascot) animals were harmed during this event…plus, egos were bruised and spirits were slaughtered.

September 16th, 2006 – Walnut Creek, California around 6pm.  This was the day I would lose my innocence, my soul, a small portion of my left rib, and all of my lunch.

It was the annual Walnut Festival Twilight Parade, a longstanding community event which included a parade route down Main Street, which happened to be adjacent to Broadway Plaza Shopping Center, the place I have worked as the Marketing Manager for almost 18 years, but at the time, I had only been in the position since 2003.

I had been tasked by my corporate office to look for opportunities to showcase the Plaza’s current public relations campaign entitled, We’re Nuts About Walnut Creek.  We were looking to gain support from the community for a proposed redevelopment project, which, in fact, would not break ground until spring 2014.

But, I digress…

The mall team agreed that the Twilight Parade would be the perfect vehicle to thank our gracious community for all their support through the years.  Our participation had the making of one of the greatest promotions in the mall’s then 55-year history.  It had community outreach, free giveaways, a spectacular vehicle display, and an oversized squirrel.  What more do you need?  You can only imagine my surprise when the night started to go wrong.  So very wrong.  So very, very, VERY wrong…

But again, I digress.

We were a late entry in the parade and had less than a week to come up with our game plan.  Luckily, the creative juices were flowing!  Plus, over ten members of the Plaza staff had committed to walking in the parade.  We were all so excited!

Our plan included the following elements:

• For a mere $1,500, we transformed the mall’s security vehicle into a one-of-a-kind masterpiece…the “Nut Mobile” with (fake) personalized license plates that boasted, W R NUTS.
• Thinking a squirrel would be the perfect mascot for our entry, we purchased a squirrel costume for $1,000, thinking that this was the smarter route to go since it cost nearly $800 to rent the costume for the day. I figured we would use the mascot costume over and over again.  I figured wrong, but more on that later.  After a “Name the Squirrel” contest among the Broadway Plaza staffers, Nut Meg was born.
• Needing a memorable giveaway, I ordered 5,000 bags of walnuts for $1,200. (In retrospect, this might have been a few too many, considering I found boxes of these nuts in my office just last week.  I’m assuming when the nuts turn white and develop fur, they are no longer edible.)
• Needing identical T-shirts for the staff, a co-worker recommended a doped-out-high-on-paint-fumes-artist-friend to design the shirts for $150, being that the only relevant shirt we could find was a “Squirrels Gone Wild” T-shirt from K-Mart, which depicted two squirrels on the front; one drinking a beer and the other removing her bra with the word “CENSORED” across her furry little chest.

And there you had it – we were ready to go!  Not bad for having only a week to plan and absolutely no budget!  (I don’t think my corporate offices were as enthused about that second point as I was.)

I was the obvious choice to play Nut Meg, as I was the only staff member with legit mascot experience, (and the only one to volunteer).  I had played the Easter Bunny at the Plaza for two years in a row, eventually relinquishing the title when my small frame could no longer support the hefty costume, which I now lovingly refer to as the “Bunny Death Chamber”.  Some may remember, I used to be taller, but the weight of the giant bunny head pushed my spinal cord into my rear end and caused a permanent curvature of my back.  On the plus side, I did sweat off a good ten pounds playing the Bunny, as I was in the costume for over four hours straight, when on average, (and apparently per law), you are only supposed to be in a mascot costume for twenty minutes at a time.  Good information to know.  I wish I would have known it just a tad sooner.

By the time the parade rolled around, our enthusiastic participants were down to five…including myself.  The final few became known as the Taking One for the Team Players, as indeed, that is what they did.

Everything started out well enough.  As we lined up on the street, people stood in awe of our snazzy Nut Mobile.   We smiled, cocky as hell, knowing we had, by far, the BEST parade entry out of all the participants.  It was even more perfect once I put on the squirrel suit.  Children came from all directions to meet me.  Some even gave me a hug.  (Of course, one child thought he was hugging a pony, but I guess that was an issue for the child’s parents.)  We even began to distribute our nut giveaways to friendly, appreciative citizens. (Key words here…friendly and appreciative.)   It was great.  All was going according to plan.

And then…it wasn’t.

The parade began.  We should have known it was going to be bad when the event organizer, a woman who was the embodiment of the late Anna Nicole Smith, appeared in front of us, squeezed into a crushed velvet burgundy bebe sweat suit with the words “CLASSY” spread across her ass and a My Little Pony tattoo sticking out of her lower (lower) back.  After being snippy to us, she allowed us to start walking, cautioning that we must stay at least one block away from the parade entry in front of us.  Yep, you heard that right.  An entire city block.  Eighty-eight participants.  It was clear this parade would not be finished until Tuesday.

I led the pack, walking slowing down the street with the Nut Mobile traveling closely behind.  The last thing I remember, (clearly), was one of the Taking One for the Team Players asking if it was okay to start distributing nuts to the crowd.  I shook my head, because earlier I had realized, no one could hear me talk (or scream) inside the squirrel suit.  (At least, that’s what they said.)  I had to raise my mouth to the giant squirrel eyehole and yell if I really wanted to get someone’s attention.  Left to fend for myself, I waved to my admirers and everything was peaceful for a good few minutes.  Okay, maybe a minute.  But then, all hell broke loose.  And I can honestly say, none of us saw it coming.

The crowd turned on us, and in an instant, I had been reduced from parade rock star to road kill.

I was suddenly being mobbed from all angles, by children, teenagers and (grown ass) adult men!  They punched me, pulled my tail, (which, by the way, was strapped tightly around both my spleen and a portion of my bladder…dear god, why did I drink that Diet Coke beforehand?!?!), and screamed obscenities at me.  They pushed me, grabbed my arm-paws, and hugged my legs so tightly, I couldn’t walk.  Those lining the street got greedy with the nuts too, attacking the Taking One for the Team Players, acting as if the nuts were the only morsel of food they had seen in weeks.  As we passed by the announcer’s stand, instead of sticking to the chipper script I had provided, the announcer said, “Oh, here comes Broadway Plaza…they’re supposed to be handing out nuts.  Thank goodness the paramedics are on-hand in case anyone has a nut allergy.”  WTF???

I lifted my mouth to the squirrel eye and cried out for help, but my mortified shrieks were left unanswered.  The Taking One for the Team Players eventually tried to pull me away from the crazy mob, but they were stronger than us.  A Broadway Plaza security officer had been taking pictures on the sidelines.  When he saw we were in danger, he ran out to assist, trying to instill some sort of reason to the clearly out of control, sadistic crowd.  Yet, the madness continued.  As if matters couldn’t get any worse, we were then disciplined by one of the event volunteers for going too slow and holding up the parade.  I flipped her the bird, but I don’t think she could tell since my fingers were covered by what appeared to be an oversized furry oven mitt.  Oh, and because I was being held back by an angry mob clearly trying to pull my arm out of the socket.

It was just plain ugly…much like the photo below.

We miraculously made it to the end of the parade in one piece.  Rather than continuing past the ending point like we were directed to do, we pulled off to the side, stripped the squirrel, and then SIX of us piled into the tiny FOUR passenger (seemingly airless) Nut Mobile…and we drove like the wind.  Some of the Taking One for the Team Players were practically falling out of the vehicle as I sat motionless, (yet trembling), grasping the gigantic squirrel head with all my might, as I tried to ignore the fact that I was sitting on the gear shift, which was stuck in an unmentionable area.  We tried to be as inconspicuous as possible as we headed back to the mall.  In retrospect, we probably should have turned off the lights and siren.

Rather than celebrating with post-parade cocktails, as originally planned, we fled Walnut Creek and ended up at a Black Angus in the next town over. (As if the night couldn’t get any sadder.)  I remember we sat in pure silence, ashamed to look at one another, afraid of reliving what we had all just experienced.  Knowing I smelled of damp squirrel and having a tiny fur ball forming at the tip of my throat, I accepted the fact that my true spirit had just died, and it would not be revived for a very long time.

The world changed for me that day.  It became a darker place, unfriendly and complicated.  The parade would soon become a metaphor for my life, as in the years to come, I would continually be beaten down by society, my community and, worse if all, (and most brutal), myself.  I would suffer from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, a condition of persistent mental stress occurring as a result of severe psychological shock and constant vivid recall of an experience, which also caused dulled interaction to others and the outside world.  It was the beginning of the end for young, spirited Tracy Dietlein, as life as I knew it, was over.

Over the next decade, I took one hit after another.  I wasn’t being physically abused, but emotionally, life was definitely taking a toll on me.  Being in the line of work I was in, I was constantly being yelled at and blamed for things that made people unhappy.  (What upsets people, you ask?  EVERYTHING.)  I was told several times to go “bleep” myself and even criticized for the “Terrorism Attack on Walnut Creek”, as reported by the news after an advertised fireworks display at an event.  (Incidentally, I can’t listen to Katy Perry’s “Firework” without bursting into tears.)

Besides the job related anguish, personally, I was falling apart as well, for too many reasons to mention…not married, childless, forty…okay, I guess that wasn’t as many as I thought.  I had become a victim of my own reality, and every day felt like one squirrel bashing after another.

However, looking back on that defining moment in my life, I now realize that I wasn’t a victim at all, but a survivor.  (On second thought, I did have the living shit beaten out of me by a blood thirsty crowd…maybe I was a bit of a victim too.)  But seriously, how many 113 pound women, (yes, you read that correctly, I used to weigh 113 pounds!), carrying additional squirrel weight, could endure that type of attack…and live to tell?  I did that.  I survived.  I realize now that I’m much stronger than I ever realized.

Nut Meg was eventually shipped off to rehab, (aka, we sold her to another shopping center for $800 bucks), and I have been banned from playing any type of animal mascot in a public setting…by my mother.  Nowadays, I can proudly say that this daunting tale no longer frightens me, but inspires me.  It is my Badge of Honor, and I wear it proudly.  And, when I look deep down inside and ask what defines me?  It is my ability to rise above adversity, as well as rise above an unruly mob…trying to hold me down.

What is your defining moment?