Let me just begin by saying that, to my knowledge, nobody ever started out with the goal of becoming a mime. Nobody ever said, “gee, you know what, I think I’d like to spend the rest of my life pretending to be trapped inside a little imaginary box.” And yet there is no shortage of these pale-faced men of few words out there on the streets. So where do they come from? What drives them to a profession that most find extraordinarily annoying? Join me today as we go in search of the answers to these and other perplexing questions.
As I began my investigation, I quickly learned that studying mimes can be a very frustrating endeavor. My natural instinct was to walk right up to one and try to engage in conversation. I’m not talking about when he was performing in front of others mind you. I waited until nobody else was around and then I politely said, “Hey, you’re pretty good. Thought for a second there you were actually trapped inside a little invisible box. Very believable. Anyway, I’m doing a story and since you appear to be off duty now, I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?” What I didn’t realize then but have since learned, is that this direct approach was a major mistake. Nothing more than an unwanted invitation to a ridiculous game of charades. “You’re swimming, no wait flying, you’re a bird of some sort. Sounds like………Look! I don’t have time for this crap. I know you can talk. Cut the act. Oh man, would you stop it with the damn imaginary box already. Forget it! Just forget it! Damn mime!”
It soon became apparent to me that there must be a much less annoying way of finding answers. Perhaps I could find some non-mimes who might have indirect insights into the minds of real mimes. Clowns seemed like a logical possibility, after all, they share that face painting kinship which few others can possibly begin to understand. Well I was wrong about that whole kinship business. Apparently clowns hate mimes and I tell you what, they didn’t appreciate me even asking about them. So there I was, standing in the middle of a clown bar on a Saturday night, having just unknowingly offended a couple of old school circus clowns with my mime inquiry. Lets just say I was counting my lucky stars they let me walk out of there in one piece. I came up with 38 by the way. Lucky stars I mean, but I digress.
At this point, I began coming to the realization that the motive behind the mime might be something I would never be able to uncover. And then it hit me. I mean literally, a damn shoe right upside the head. I turned in the direction from which it came and believe it or not, there was a mime standing there looking all innocent except for the fact that he was missing one shoe. Well that was it. I calmly looked him in the eye and in my best DeNiro voice stated, “You want a piece a me?” Then I whipped the shoe back at his head, but low and behold, it deflected away just before it reached his face. Undeterred, I took a wild swing at him, however, my fist never got there. It felt like it slammed into an invisible brick wall. I knew right away what this meant. My God, mimes actually do have some sort of inexplicable box-like force field surrounding them. It must be something they can turn on and off too, considering he had been able to throw a shoe at me just moments before.
So there I was, confused and in pain, but this mime wasn’t through with me yet. He started flicking my nose repeatedly with his white-gloved finger but every time I tried to retaliate he turned that confounded force field back on. Well this went on for several minutes until finally I began to cry and fled the scene in utter disgrace. Once I calmed down and stopped whimpering I began to reflect on the whole experience. At first I felt embarrassed and ashamed, though before long, those negative emotions gave way to a sense of joy stemming from the realization that I had finally uncovered the mystery. It all began to make sense. These mimes are not silent weirdos after all. In actuality, they are gifted individuals with powers beyond our understanding. I imagine their silence is an indication that they have mastered some form of mental telepathy used in communicating amongst themselves. They probably can talk, but hesitate to lower themselves to our level. Instead, they dress up in strange clothes and openly mock us, knowing full well their force fields will protect them. I guess, deep down, we dislike them not because they are extraordinarily annoying, but rather, because they remind us of how shallow and insignificant we non-mimes truly are.
One thing though. I gotta say that the fact that mimes really are surrounded by a box-like force field makes that whole trapped inside the invisible box routine that they do seem a lot less impressive. It’s like you wouldn’t be as amazed by my uncanny DeNiro impression, the one where I say “You talking to me” over and over, if it turned out that the real DeNiro was there, just invisible, and doing all the talking while I was just moving my lips. Am I right?
