I wore a costume to work once on Halloween.
I went as a doctor – I had on ER scrubs, the green kind, and a toy stethoscope. At this time in my life, I had long hair, a soul patch, and mutton chop side burns. In short, you probably wouldn’t have let me operate a vending machine, let alone on a human being.
I got off the subway at Union Square and a woman grabbed my arm.
"Thank goodness!" she said. "The man, over there! He got hit by a car, doctor."
It took me a second to realize what the deal was.
"Oh, sorry. I’m not a doctor. It’s Halloween," I said, as if that would make it all OK.
She looked at me like I was a crazy. Then confused. Then ran off for real help.
I can only assume she is telling her version of the story, too.