Chocolate Syrup Will Add a Realistic Brown Tone to the Blood

OK, I will admit this: I never really liked Michael Jackson. Sure, I was “there” for the 1982 premiere of the Thriller video on MTV, and I was of the first generation of suburban kids to try and fail at moonwalking. But, when my parents presented me with my very own cassette tape of the Thriller album, I asked them to take it back to the store.

I have confessed this ambivalence to assorted friends over the past few weeks, and most have reacted with a touch of horror. “But what about the dancing?!?!” they exclaimed. “Don’t you think he was a genius?” Hmmm. Well, the dancing was good, and he was very creative. But I was just never…thrilled.

When he died, I was not surprised that there was a collective national gasp of shock. But I certainly didn’t imagine that there would be an elephant parade in his honor! Or a Maya Angelou poem ("Beloveds, now we know that we know nothing, now that our bright and shining star can slip away from our fingertips like a puff of summer wind")! Or a butter sculpture! So I got to thinking -- perhaps I have underestimated the whole Michael Jackson phenomenon. Is there a way connect with this larger movement, to feel it for just a moment?

To that end, I decided to take to the streets and gauge the impact of Michael Jackson’s life and death in my own community. I was going to ask people about why they were so attached to him, how his music changed them, and how they were coping with his death.

So Last Friday evening, my friend ECM and I headed out to the 2009 World Record Thriller Dance. Here was the premise: You were supposed to dress up like a zombie (we didn’t – I regret that), wait in line for hours, and then join with thousands of similarly bloody individuals in a dance that filled several blocks of city streets.

When ECM and I embarked on our attempt at investigative reporting, we found that most zombies were more than willing to let us pick their brains. Take, for instance, “Chubby Farmer Zombie," who joined us on the sidewalk to chat about the larger significance of the event. “Why did you dress up like a zombie tonight?” I asked him. “Because my wife made me,” he answered. “It didn’t have anything to do with Michael Jackson?” I continued. “Ah, yes!” he corrected. “Michael Jackson! Michael Jackson changed music, man! He was the KING OF POP. He just died, you know.” At that point, he was joined by his nagging wife (sporting an “I Love Brains” shirt, below) and their charming son, G.I. Joe.



My attention was diverted by “Vitamin Water Zombie,” who came up to us to ask us what we were doing. “I’m taking pictures of people like you!” I said. “Why?” he asked. “Because I want to write about why all these people came out tonight in costumes to do a dance from the 1980s.” He said, “I came because my ex-girlfriend wanted me to come.” I looked at him quizzically. “It’s complicated," he added.




There were others.


Zombie with a Brain on a Stick:



Corporate Logo Zombies:



Elvis Zombie:



Going to the Chapel Zombie:



Zombies Up Past Their Bedtime:



A Banana:



A Penguin:



Random Bloody Guy:



ECM and I planted ourselves with a good view of the main stage. The music started for the warm-up, and we could hear the perky dance instructor zombies begin their work.

Right, Left, Right, Left, Shoulder Step, Shoulder Step, Shuffle Back, Hop, Hop, Forward, Slide, Slide, Right Hip, Right Hip, Left Hip, Left Hip, Claws Up, Claws Up, Stare, Stare.

But it turned out that all we could really see was a confused and sweaty crowd of zombies milling around without a place to be. ECM and I were debating about what to do when we heard a zombie say, “Hello, Seattle! We are 300 zombies short of a record. Please go sign up so that we can be WORLD LEADERS!!!”

World leaders! Yes! The Senate election in Minnesota was won by a similar margin. Our participation mattered! We mattered! I grabbed ECM by the arm and dragged her down the street and over to the sign-up station. We weren’t mere journalists. We weren’t bystanders. We were going to DO the Thriller dance, join in this ghoulish display, be a part of HISTORY.

We signed up, gave our phone numbers for verification, and joined the throngs on our way to dance. Except…Wait….There was no dance. We found ourselves out on the street watching a costume contest. About 20 zombies were up on a platform, vying to win an XBOX.

I stood, practicing the dance in my head (Slide, Slide, Roar, Turn), while the competing zombies introduced themselves. Oddly, the fellow who won was not dressed as Michael Jackson; rather, he was dressed like Billy Mays.

Soon, the crowd dispersed. ECM and I looked at each other. Slide? Slide? Roar? Turn? Where was the dancing? We signed up! We were ready!

We made our way up to the front, where ECM found what seemed to be a zombie-in-charge. “When is the dance?” she asked. “The Thriller dance already happened,” he said. “You missed it.”

Missed it!!?

Missed it!!?

Missed it!!?

Days later, we are still at a loss. We were part of this huge event, this RECORD BREAKING event, and yet we weren’t. I have started a letter:

Dear Guinness Book of World’s Records,

On Friday, July 3, Seattle broke the Thriller dancing record with 3,848 zombies. You will need to subtract 2 from that total, because ECM and I somehow entered the twilight zone and didn’t actually do the dance.

Sincerely,

Zombie, Ph.D

I am also at a loss about the larger meaning of this evening. It didn't seem to have much to do with Michael Jackson. Does this suggest that his music transcends his untimely death? That the Thriller Dance will live on, even though he has joined the Land of the Dead? Perhaps there was a sense that drenching oneself in ketchup and carrying around a fake amputated leg could create unity. After all, aren’t we always hungry for something common to rally around, to cry over, to feel together? But more likely, most people were simply happy to have an excuse to celebrate Halloween in July (and maybe win an Xbox along the way).


(Somebody out there was able to see the actual dance. Thanks, YouTube. The dancing starts 22 seconds in.)