Zombies and The Meaning of Life

This weekend was the Zombie Crawl along 16th Street Mall in Denver. Probably about 7000 people showed up. It was packed. Young folks, old folks, dogs, even toddlers and infants were dressed up as zombies. There were zombies of all stripes, Romero-style, 28 Days-style, Jesus zombies, Elvis zombies, Snow White zombies, Zombies vs. Plants. There were zombies hunters out in numbers to rival deer season in Pennsylvania. And all along the Mall was the sweet sound of groans, moans, and dragging feet. We were even treated to afternoon soaps as a couple of chases and intestine-pulling matches ensued between the hunters and the hunted as one became the other. It was glorious! And the police sent to monitor the event looked on in amusement. We even had zombie crossing signs, for traffic. At the starting place was a hearse show complete with tricked out vehicles for zombie warfare, and a sign up for a foam pop-gun battle after the walk.

I didn’t remember the event was going to happen until the night before, so Rosa and I decided that next year, we will not be spectators. She will be Princess Mononoke Zombie and I will be an Imhotep zombie, complete with tissue paper and latex boils, and spirit-glued locusts and flies. Rosa spent the ride home on the train pretending to eat my brains. She makes a terrific zombie, even without a costume.

These are the times when I most love Denver, when a collection of otherwise normal folks band together for a massive off-the-wall march for no other reason, in the midst of all this societal seriousness and chaos, than to have a great weird time.

I’ve been under a lot of stress, and getting sucked back into that  list of tasks in my head again. And being there surrounded by all the fake gashes and plastic limbs reminded me to take time off and enjoy the scare. What is the world coming to when it takes being surrounded by zombies to remember to stop and enjoy life, and eat the brain molded jello?


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