I have been enthralled in the crowds during Mardi Gras and the fanfare of gridiron at Soldier Field.
The mass hysteria of Carnival Season and a football game is where my passion takes over and I dance and I yell and I feel comfortable.
I scream, “throw me something Mista!” During a parade in New Orleans.
Or
“Bear Down, Chicago Bears!” after the Monsters of the Midway score a touchdown.
Many people would feel uncomfortable at a parade route along Saint Charles Avenue or a tailgate along the lake front.
Not me, that’s where I thrive. That is where I’m in my happy place.
I have a sixteen year old son who is over six feet tall. He weighs over two hundred pounds. He would be a perfect defensive end on a football field or a solid prop on a rugby pitch.
My son isn’t wired to be a defensive end or a tighthead prop. George is wired to build computers and take pictures of trains. George can see a burnt out street light four blocks away. My oldest son knows everything about a car engine. Heck, I can’t even find a spark plug.
I don’t have a kid who wears a letterman jacket. My son carries his back pack like a Linus blanket and inside it is what’s important to him.
Yesterday I escorted George to his Mardi Gras, to his Bear game. We went to The Midwest Fur Festival at the convention center in Rosemont. There were people dressed like cuddly animals, robots, goth kitty cats and futuristic dragons. I was in a world filled with many special needs people. The entire Autistic Spectrum was gathered in a convention center.
They weren’t there for a Mardi Gras Float or a halftime show. They were there to do THEIR thing. To do what makes them feel comfortable.
Yesterday I wore my “Parent in Tow” badge and let George throw his version of Mardi Gras beads and his version of cheering his heroes. His heroes just happened to be wearing furry tails and fluffy ears.
“Dad…. Do you know some of these outfits can cost over two thousand bucks?”
Thirty five years ago my oldman screamed at me for spending 126 bucks on a Bears Starter jacket. I’m just waiting for George to tell me that he spent two grand on a dragon costume.
I sat on a couch in the middle of a hotel lobby and watched the world of furries mingle. I was really uncomfortable sitting there dressed like a dad in tow. During my agonizing afternoon I learned how people who seem different to me are only living the way they want to celebrate.
I sat next to a kid having a panic attack and I watched his friend with Asperger’s calm him down. I watched three guys have a conversation without eye contact or laughter, but I could hear the happiness in their monotone voices.
The attendees had color coded badges that showed their affection level. Green badges meant it was okay to give them a hug. Red badges meant a hug made them uncomfortable.
I watched my son watch a world with people that he can relate to and I felt more comfortable as more and more furries packed the facility.
I’ll probably never attend a rugby match with George on the pitch, but I attended The Midwest FurFest on a Saturday in December with him and when we got home… I received a hug and a thank you.
That hug was better than any Mardi Gras or Superbowl…
