YODEL MASCOT THERAPY Beaker beware! A costumed skier tries to keep his head while navigating spring slush at Palisades Tahoe, CA. Photo: Andrew Marshall Words Brian Cornell “PEOPLE DON’T REALIZE how hard this job is.” I sat there nodding speechlessly, save for the occasional polite agreement. It was Sunday, and I was dressed in a bunny costume from the neck down. The ski resort mascot sat across from me: Eddie the Yeti. Our giant heads were perched on the desk between us as we waited for the start of the Easter parade. We each had a han-dler to aid us during the event—one of them stood inside the door and the other remained outside, making sure no one entered the room accidentally or tried to ambush us before the parade began. The guy playing Eddie was in his early 30s. His face was sweaty and his hair disheveled, a tight headband around his pale forehead. He held a gym towel in one of his gloved hands. “You gotta be on all the time ,” he continued. “Kids go crazy when they see me. Adults, too. And you can’t talk. You know how hard it is to be silent when everyone is talking to you?” “This is my first time as a mascot,” I admitted. “Well, make sure you don’t talk. Have they told you that yet? Shit, you can’t make any noise. Last season they fired a Yeti because he laughed out loud. Can you believe that? A kid heard it and freaked out, the parents complained, it was a whole thing. If you wanna laugh, you gotta mime, like this.” He brought his hands to his mouth and nodded his head, face remaining blank and unchanged. No talking. Got it. “We go through tryouts and everything. Character per-formance. Skiing ability. Customer interaction. Movement training. Eddie even has to walk a certain way. If one of the higher-ups sees us walking or moving or skiing in a way that’s not approved, we get put on probation. I’m the face of this resort, man. It’s a lot of pressure.” Sounds like it. “And get this, I can’t tell anybody what I do for work. They don’t want people to know who’s in the costume. It ruins the mystique. If someone at the bar asks what I do for work, I have to say I’m in marketing. They even have spies , man. People employed by the mountain come up to me outside of work and ask what I do. They wanna make sure we don’t go blab-bing all over town telling people we’re Eddie the Yeti.” I wasn’t nearly drunk enough to listen to a man in a yeti costume complain about his job. Tipsy maybe, but not drunk. I had already finished my flask of rum. I was actually looking forward to this gig. I thought it would be fun, but this clown was killing my buzz. I checked my wrist for the time, but remembered the handler made me take my watch off when I was getting dressed. “The Easter bunny doesn’t wear a watch,” she scoffed. “Five minutes,” called the handler by the door. Thank goodness. From outside the door, I heard a child’s voice. “Is Eddie in there?” The handler outside responded faintly. “Yes, he is! He’s just brushing his teeth and getting ready for the parade!” I felt her enthusiasm through the door. Not-Eddie rolled his eyes and let out a heavy human sigh. “It’s probably a good thing I can’t talk. I’d say some ridicu-lous shit. I end up having conversations in my head while in costume. You get good at that. You know, in cities, they actu-ally have support groups for mascots ’cause it’s such a tough job socially, physically, mentally. Here, there are only three Eddies, and nobody has the time to meet because of second jobs and such. It’s so weird, man. I mean, walking around the resort, everyone sees you. Then you change out of costume and go to the store, the bar, and you’re a ghost.” He shook his head, sighed, and turned the yeti head to face him. He pushed the hair to one side and polished the big blue eyes with his sweaty gym towel. “Hair brushed to the right got an 80 percent approval rating. Ruffled hair only got 40. People like a tidy Eddie. Put your head on, I’ll tuck you in. Can’t show any skin.” 034 The Ski Journal
The Ski Journal Volume 15, Issue 4: Page 34
