Mushroom Cloud Afro Man in Wonderland

Sometimes you meet people. No, wait, sometimes you don’t even meet people, yet you share a moment.  This can happen anywhere you’d least expect it. I love it when this happens, miscellaneous adventures, is what I call them. Brief encounters of surreal magic in real life.

Let me tell you about the day I had a moment with the Mushroom Cloud Afro Man. It was the opening day for Tim Burton’s Alice in Wonderland. This was a much anticipated event for the family, so naturally we had to go into the city to see it at the Museum’s IMAX Theater in 3D for the full experience.

We had a picnic by the giant, musical fountain and then went into the theater twenty minutes early to procure good seats. However, there were already three rows of people waiting in a great organized zigzagged line to get in. So naturally I began examining every single person around me in line, to find my favorite. This is something I often do, look about for interesting people and make up stories about them.

It took no time at all, for there about fifteen feet in front of me was a six foot tall, slender black man with a giant white afro. His afro erupted off the top of his head like a mushroom cloud. He was dressed in a black leather jacket and black jeans with a long chain wallet. He had freckles too. He was magical, like the psychedelic ghost of Jimi Hendrix, absolutely radiating cool. I was certain he had to be some sort of creative mastermind. He looked like a mad god of 1970’s rock science. He was my favorite in the crowd, next to the Go-Go dancer with the silver space boots.

We watched the movie, it was amazing. I was waiting outside the theatre entrance, still inside the museum. The gentlemen that I had attended the film with had ventured off. I was standing alone next to some sort of electric, robotic, baby grand piano exhibit; reading about underwater volcanoes, when the Mushroom Cloud Afro Man came and took a seat at the piano.

I gave a delighted glance out of the corner of my eye and found him lending the same in my direction. I knew it, he was a musician. He gave me a wink and a bit of a half smile, he cracked his knuckles and began to play the most beautiful music. His long fingers wavered over the plastic, fake ivory keys melodically and he swayed from side to side. His exquisite nuclear afro was exploding this way and that, puffing like a steam engine.

I recognized some of his concert pieces, some Debussy, some Beatles, and some Motley Crue, all preformed as flawlessly as if Beethoven himself were at the keys.

The museum was full of people walking from exhibit to exhibit. Nobody else stopped to listen. I stood alone in blissful adornment receiving a personal private concert just for me. From time to time my entertainer’s face glanced back at me to see if I was still listening, and he would greet me with that same half smile and wink. But alas, before long it was time to go. I left the Mushroom Cloud Afro Man in the middle of “Let it Be”, and we gave each other a brief nod and smile as I left. He played on, unnoticed by anyone else as I walked out the door.

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2 Responses to Mushroom Cloud Afro Man in Wonderland

  1. Joy Wood says:

    I like the mushroom man story

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