Sep. 29th, 2007

davehogg: (Default)
I'm walking down Washington Street in Royal Oak, thinking that things are pretty dead for a Saturday, and I approach a family on their bicycles. As I walked up them, the father (well, the person that I assumed to be the father, given the stereotypical makeup of the group - one adult male, one adult female, one dog, 2.6 children) said "Here they come!"

I did what people are wont to do when someone looks over their shoulder and says "Here they come!" ...

I turned around.

There, not very far behind me, were zombies. Lots and lots (and lots) of zombies. Dozens. Hundreds. Possibly an entire horde. Several.

Now, on a surprise scale of 1-10, where 1 is a Lions loss and 10 is going to a play to see a friend of yours perform and finding out that she does the entire role without pants, realizing that you've spent the last 10 minutes obliviously walking 20 yards in front of a remake of Day of the Dead is about a 14.

(In a related note, on an attractiveness score of 1-10, where the typical Lions game is a 1 and the hot friend sans pants is a 10, a horde of zombies is a ... well, I was going to say a negative-14, but I've covered a lot of Lions games, so I'll say a 2.)

So, being a trained journalist, I spent the next hour trailing zombies around downtown Royal Oak. Mostly, though, I didn't watch the zombies - I watched the watchers. You haven't lived until you've seen a lot of high-school boys all dressed up for Homecoming fuming as their dates ignore them in order to pose for pictures with zombies or had a discussion with a woman about whether her child needed silver bullets for his cap gun to kill zombies or had someone recognize you at a zombie rally and not thinking I was Peter Jackson.

Zombies. In Royal Oak.

I love living here.

Yes, of course I took pictures. Lots and lots (and lots) of pictures. Patience.


davehogg: (Default)

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