It felt like I’d been training for that night my entire life. Some might suggest it was a complete and total embodiment of my spirit (and spirit animal). Perhaps. But it definitely was the most absurd Saturday evening I’ve had in a long while. What was this monumental event?

I dressed in a giant chicken costume and boxed my sister—who happened to be wearing a giant duck costume—at a dirt racetrack in Help Me GPS, Tennessee.

But first, the back story. A few weeks ago, my sister did something on her bucket list; she was a mascot at an event, dressing up as Sam the Duck at Duck River Raceway Park. She was so excited to do it, and even more excited when they asked her to come back the following week.

Here’s what she shared on a Facebook post about the experience:

1. It’s hot being a mascot. Like dripping sweat hot.
2. Like the country song says, you have to dance when no one else is dancing. Even if you’re hot.
3. You have to be excited, really excited. Low grade excitement doesn’t read through a padded suit so you gotta be extra.
4. You don’t have to smile in pictures, but you still do.
5. Grown men want pictures with a duck.
6. Mascot footwear is next level. Walking with giant duck feet makes you very intentional. It’s great mindfulness training.
7. Everything you ate that day is trapped in a duck head with you. Your own breath is encircling your head continuously.
8. Wear the chin strap.
9. The whole experience will wreck your hairstyle. But who cares?
10. There is only a small 2” x 8” slit in which you see the world but it’s a perfect perspective to see the joy, awe, and trepidation of a 4-year-old who wants a hug from a duck.

 

Well, I loved this WOW! Moment for her. For about five minutes. Then I was jealous. Suddenly, I wanted to wear the duck suit more than anything. The problem is that my sister’s fiancé, John, is the announcer at the racetrack. Unless I Gillooly her (getting someone to whack her knee with a baton a la Nancy Kerrigan … and I happen to have a baton I’m not currently twirling), there was little chance I’d get to be Sam. So, I went back to being happy for her.

And then a miracle happened. The Mascot Gods decided that Sam the Duck should box another costumed character to kick off the boxing ring promotion the racetrack was holding. And who did they come to for the job? Yes, me. IT WAS ME!

After trying on several giant animal costumes that the racetrack just happens to have (I didn’t ask questions), I settled on being a chicken. Why? Well, I like chicken. The costume fit. And I could see out the eye holes. Also, I tend to be a little bit of a chicken sometimes. OK. I tend to be a big bit of a chicken sometimes. OK. All the times. So, it was perfect.

But there needed to be a back story. Drama. Intrigue. Here’s how it went down:

On his official announcer microphone, John got the crowd pumped up to welcome Sam the Duck. Then, I walked out, pretending to be Sam. I even had a vest similar to the one Sam wears. Obvs, John recognized that I’m not Sam. So, he outed me right away, telling everyone that I am “that rogue chicken from across the street.” That dirty bird, Cluck Norris. (OMG, I’m a chicken AND a badass villain! Could this night be any better?)

John called out to Sam again. And when the real Sam came out, I got upset and started a fight. John decided if we were going to fight, we should fight fair and not get into a barnyard brawl. So, he cued the theme from Rocky, and Moo-hamed Ali, a cow-costume-wearing referee, came out with two pairs of giant boxing gloves. We were ready to rumble in a sanctioned cage (free) match to crown the featherweight champion of the world Help Me GPS, Tennessee.

I got to take the lead and pummeled my sister (gently, cuz I love her), but I had to eventually throw the fight because it’s Sam’s track. And then there’s the fiancé situation. I needed to be happy that I got my 15 minutes of racetrack fame. Also, my sister could 100% take me down in a real fight. So, I gladly took the fall and got a dramatic 10-second countdown by Moo.

And here’s what I learned.

1. People love to root for the underchicken underdog. A group of kids in the front row cheered me on, yelling, “You got this, little chicken.” I wanted to take them under my wing and love them forever. But that would be creepy.
2. Giant costume heads are prone to swiveling and mine didn’t have a chin strap. It gave new meaning to the saying, “keep your head on straight.”
3. Doing a twirling move when you’re dressed like a chicken will earn you the nickname “rotisserie.”
4. A giant chicken being given a TKO countdown by a giant cow looks like a disturbing Chick-fil-A commercial.
5. I will always be my sister’s wingman. Even if I have to take the fall.
6. I now know the answer to riddle, Why did the chicken cross the road? To fight the duck.
7. And my sister was right. You really don’t have to smile in pictures, but you still do.

 

I’ve been an amateur chicken all my life, but I think I’ve got a shot at going pro. After the fight, a man came up to me and asked for my name, I said, “Cluck Norris.” He said, “Who?” So, I said, “Chicken.” Then he asked if I was the chicken from a local radio station. I said yes. And he shouted, “I knew it was you. I knew it!” Then walked away very proud of his chicken-spotting skills. Apparently, I’m natural.

So, if you get the chance to wear a chicken suit, do it. Or just look for a chance to ruffle some feathers. Living a WOW! Life should occasionally involve fowl play.