Yesterday I was an anonymous member of Corporation X. As a conglomerate, we “ran” the Idiotarod. Actually, a bunch of people in wacky costumes did the running. We just provided the bureaucracy. (Heh, I just mistyped that as bureaucrazy, which was probably more fitting!)
Teams met up at 10:30am in Maria Hernandez Park. The mounds of snow provided a scenic backdrop to the colorful costumes: bumble bees, pastel papier maché monsters, techno Vikings, Mardi Gras jesters and more. We corporate whores were dressed in professional attire, basic black, white shirts with black ties and dark ski masks marked with our logo, a white X. All employees of Corporation X also sported Henry McGovern name tags.
We strolled around, shaking people down for bribes. The Mardi Gras folks had Hurricanes and beads, the Disasterpiece people had Jell-O shots and someone handed me a brownie! I was also asking participants to pose for group shots. Everyone looked awesome!
The competition began when racers were given their first destination, and we piled into a car, headed for our checkpoint, “Meg,” a bar somewhere in Brooklyn. The purpose of checkpoints, beyond the obvious, is to slow people down and generally fuck with them. We took our jobs very seriously and provided enough corporate red tape to frustrate, confuse and delay.
Ruth and I were in charge of “The Rat Race,” basically creating workplace-type irritation. I instructed racers to “Run to the other end of the bar and brown nose.” When they didn’t quite grasp that, I got more specific. “Go to the other end of the bar, find the right Henry McGovern, and come back with a brown nose.” Ruth was the right Henry and she had chocolate frosting to smear on everyone’s noses. We made them run back and forth with boxes, too, but the best part was making them get on their knees and beg for their jobs. Listening to a bunch of people groveling made me feel surprisingly good! I was drunk with power! And alcohol…
The checkpoints are also an opportunity for races to rest, warm up and have a drink or two. When upper management showed to let us know that maybe people were doing a little too much resting and not enough racing, we wrapped up our operation and headed to the last stop. More drinking ensued before we all headed to the afterparty. By that point I was so drunk I didn’t know where the hell I was. And when things started getting blurry, I jumped into a cab with one or the Black Swans (er, he was a White Swan…) and came home. I think that cab ride cost me way more than it should have but it was definitely better than the subway ride would’ve been. I had a blast!