The Arby's
Sign
One of my more bizarre fears stems from this sign. While
I would not dispute the fact that Arby's roast beef sandwich
is indeed delicious, when I was very young I didn't
understand why this sign was in this shape. Of course, one
day in my teens I realized that this sign is supposed to be
shaped like a big tall cowboy hat, but when I was little, it
reminded me of the monster from the Bugs Bunny cartoons--you
know--the big scary one without arms. I had nightmares of
this sign walking around on those two "legs," stomping on
cars and people.
Oddly, this is the only one of these "cowboy hat" signs
I've ever seen that has two poles instead of one. If it
would have had only one pole, I'm sure it never would have
occurred to me that this thing could go on a murderous
rampage.
Now that I think about it, just about all large signs
that are shaped like things give me the creeps. There was a
really scary Halloween episode of The Simpsons in
which all the large signs in Springfield come to life and
start attacking everyone, which leads me to think that I'm
not the only one in the world who has this fear.
The Big
Sombrero
I'm sure that my fear of this huge sombrero at South of
the Border in South Carolina is directly related to my fear
of the big signs, only this thing is much taller and has
four legs. This huge tower is an observation platform and it
just doesn't seem right that there is a big hat at the top
of it--the hat makes it seem just a little too. . . well. .
. alive.
Oil
Wells
Unlike big signs with hats, these things actually move in
a frightening way--they raise and lower their heads like
giant, drinking insects. They also appear to have arms and
legs, and look like they could overtake you if you were
trying to get away in a car. Mary says she's scared of them
too.
Santa
Claus
Though I am scared of the normal-sized Santa Claus
(possibly going back to some childhood trauma of being
placed on a stranger's lap after being specifically told
that such behavior was evil), the manifestations of him that
truly frighten me are the giant inflatable St. Nicks that
appear during the Christmas season around here. Local car
dealerships place these gargantuan tethered creatures on
their roofs. The giant inflatables shift around in the wind
like red and white King Kongs, trying to break free from the
cables that restrain them. At night, in addition to stronger
winds being present, these things are lit from within,
making them especially frightful.
Big-Headed
Picasso
This amusement-park version of Pablo Picasso was a
performance piece by Italian artist Maurizio Cattelan that
greeted Mary and me when we went to the Museum of Modern Art
in New York a few months ago. I'm not too scared of the real
Picasso, but any large-headed mascot-type person gives me
the willies. Around Halloween, we saw a jumbo-sized skull on
a skeleton waving to us as we drove by a costume store and I
started screaming.
The Man In
Full
This guy is on the cover of the new Tom Wolfe book, which
Mary just finished reading. I don't know why, but he really
gives me the creeps. He doesn't even have the courtesy to
appear on the outside of the dust jacket--he's printed on
the front cover of the book and he peeps out through the "o"
in Tom. Perhaps it's the neanderthal brow or the butt-like
chin, or maybe I just don't like the way he's winking at
me.
Clowns
No sane person likes clowns. Most people find them
somewhat frightening, if not downright terrifying. Children,
the people that clowns are presumably around to entertain,
avoid them at all costs. Who can blame them? Here is a full
grown person in bizarre clothing with menacing make-up,
stomping around in enormous shoes. If the children knew
about the clown in this picture, serial killer John
Wayne Gacy, they would run screaming when the carnival
came to town.
One of my earliest memories is of a dream I had about a
clown--I was at the circus and a clown with a machine gun
was chasing me. I think it was my first realistic,
terrifying nightmare.
When I was about seven years old, my parents rearranged
my room so that my bed was under the window. The first time
I tried to sleep there, I noticed that I could see out the
window underneath the shade. Suddenly, I was alarmed to
realize that clowns could look in at me while I was asleep.
Why would clowns want to watch me sleep? I didn't (and still
don't) know, but the whole idea that there was a chance of
this happening forced me to move my bed across the room and
the thought of it to this day makes me shudder. I mean, is
there any thought creepier than looking out your window and
seeing a clown looking in at you? I still sleep with a
pillow over my eyes so that if a clown (or, the ultimate in
terror, the ghost of a clown) really is looking at me, at
least I won't be able to see it.
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