This Halloween weekend, rather than dressing in an absolutely scary costume like Frankenstein or Richard Nixon, I was a condom fairy, which meant I donned wings and handed out free condoms to partiers. I didn't feel awkward either, for in this day and age of sexual freedom, birth control is a perfectly acceptable topic to talk about. Mothers, priests, infomercial actors, grocery baggers -- everyone is fine discussing it. In fact, my dinners at home tend to be like this:
Me: Please pass the avocados, mother.
Mother: Okay. But take these birth control pills first.
Me: But I'm a guy.
Mother: Really?
So I didn't feel awkward working with Planned Parenthood to distribute free condoms. I did feel awkward in my "costume," though. First of all, I was wearing purple rain pants, a pink shirt and wings. I was in that intermediate dress-up stage that is the most embarrassing costume of all. I say "intermediate" because it's above not dressing up and below wearing a real costume (King Arthur, Dracula, Joanie from "Joanie Loves Chachi").
The latter costume style is fine because it indicates you went to the party store, and being able to drive has always been cool. Wearing no costume is also fine because you're saying, "I know it's Halloween -- but you know what? I'm too cool to wear a costume. Yeah, Mr. Dracula, take that." I'm okay with these people because they remind me of those really cool guys from high school who, for cool reasons, never used the restroom. "I know it's a physiological process," they would say, "but you know what? I'm too cool for a digestive system. Yeah, Mr. Proctologist, take that."
But the costume stage in-between is the stage people laugh at. It's the doctor outfit (scrubs), the frat boy look (10 polo shirts), or the greaser look (jeans, white T-shirt, ability to break out into song). These costumes are as creative as most Paris Hilton songs, which is roughly the writing talent of mustard gas. These costumers are the "costume rejects." Since my outfit consisted of purple pants, wings and a wand, I felt I fit into this group. I tried hiding behind a large, black ski mask, but I quickly discovered drunk strangers would avoid me at all costs, even jumping in front of a moving bus to do so.
People were actually very receptive to the free condoms. I don't blame them. Free condoms are like free credit cards, in the sense they stay in your wallet for years and you're constantly checking their expiration dates. Student responses generally fit into the following categories:
1."Why thank you!!! Can I have 30? Like, honestly."
2."Sure, why not? I can use it as gum."
3."No, I'm asexual."
4."No, I'm pregnant."
5."I bet they're defective."
People really did say point number five. This is quite a cynical view of mankind. As if people would run around handing out defective condoms in the hope of tricking a boy and a girl in bringing the stork a little early (sorry if this is outdated thinking, but my column is syndicated in more than 30 elementary school newsletters). Actually, knowing our military's need for new recruits, I bet the government would do that. Now that I think about it, that explains why many of the condoms had "Don't be a fool, wrap your tool, but if for 'some reason' that doesn't work, send your child to army school" written on them.
By the end of the night, my group had handed out about 700 condoms. Though I'm sure not all of them will be used in the way we had hoped (water balloon fights), I bet we helped a few people from having to make that classic and frantic 2 a.m. search for their room's condoms, even though they're actually in Biltmore's bathroom and the "girls" are just their reflections in the mirror.
In all seriousness, I enjoyed the experience. Students were grateful, and I was happy to supply people with such a simple pleasure. If students were only as interested in homework as much as free condoms, I think this school would have an average GPA of 4.2. Although I'm not a member of Planned Parenthood (I'm a terrible planner -- I don't even own a calendar!), I was happy to help out the cause. And, more importantly, I now have about 100 free condoms in my wallet, which makes it awkward to sit, but at least I'm always prepared for any and all impromptu water fights.
Chris' column runs weekly Mondays. He can be reached at shuptrine@cavalierdaily.com.
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