MOFB's "Cut to the Chase": Look Up in the Sky - It's Hoboman

By Denny Banister

After attending two adult costume parties, I concluded the last one I attended would remain the last one – I vowed to never attend another party dressed in a costume.  Instead, I determined I would arrive at such parties in regular casual clothes.

Dressing in costumes was fun as a kid.  Every Halloween I dressed as a bum because I could always find the appropriate costume in my closet – patched jeans, t-shirts, very well-worn PF Flyers, my ‘playground’ jacket and stocking cap.  Mom applied a charred-cork ‘beard’ to my face and I was off to get candy.

The first adult costume party I attended had a Star Trek theme.  I dressed as Captain Kirk in what I thought was the perfect Star Trek costume – a pair of blue and gold ski pajamas made with tight knit cotton, crew neck and ribbed cuffs at the wrists and ankles.  I attached a patch on the left chest that looked like the Star Trek emblem and went to the party.  When the hostess came to answer my knock at the door, she hesitated, and then asked, “Why are you dressed in your pajamas?”

It was many years before I accepted another costume party invitation, but my friend who was hosting the event assured me no one would be allowed into the party if they were not in costume.  I trusted him – the lying jerk.  His party had an Olympics theme since the world games were underway at the time. 

I dressed as an Olympic boxer – shiny two-toned satin shorts, a sleeveless undershirt, black leather high-top tennis shoes with knee length tube socks and I wore a pair of boxing gloves.  I went to the party early, but by the time the party was in full swing I was one of only three people in a costume.  That’s when I vowed, “Never again!” 

Never say never.  My employer tasked me to work at an upcoming company event where the proper attire for the banquet is costume.  It is not a matter of choice.  We are to dress as our favorite super-hero – you know, Superman, Batman and the like. 

One of my co-workers quipped we will see more spandex at this event than can be seen at Wal-Mart on a Saturday (I think he gets his material from the Comedy Channel).  My body is not designed for spandex, and I’m not alone.  Most of the people attending are also beyond their spandex days by at least 20 years and 30 pounds.

It finally dawned on me I have the perfect costume in my closet – jeans, t-shirt, and well-worn sandals.  Since I have a full beard, I don’t need Mom’s charred cork on my cheeks.  It further dawned on me dressing like a bum is not a costume – it’s me. 

I am often seen in my bum outfit on Saturdays at Wal-Mart (I’m the one not dressed in spandex). The only real costume I have is what I wear is what I wear to work weekdays consisting of dress slacks and an oxford button-down-collar shirt.

So for the mandatory costume banquet, I’m going as myself, Denny the bum.  To make the costume one of a super hero I’ll use another of my Mom’s old tricks.  I’ll simply safety-pin a bath towel around my neck to hang down my back as a cape. 

Yes, I’m going in costume as…Hoboman, and everyone knows Hoboman does not do spandex. 

(Denny Banister, of Jefferson City, Mo., is the assistant director of public affairs for the Missouri Farm Bureau, the state’s largest farm organization.)