I learned Mommy is a zombie, among other things

In commentary, entertainment, Kentucky, Louisville, my life, photography, sarcasm on September 2, 2011 at 10:30 pm

Like some of the other notable traditions that have taken root in Louisville, the annual Zombie Attack Walk started when a small group of people decided to be kooky and others wanted to join in.

In this case, some individuals thought it would be a hoot if they and their friends dressed up as zombies for their shared birthday.

Six years later, the event has grown to include hundreds of undead in a parade of the damned down Bardstown Road.

Elbow to elbow with the mortals on Monday, I watched the stooping and limping masses moan and groan as they made their way to Bearno’s Pizza for the zombie bash.

A nimbler member of the walking dead randomly ran up and shouted at members of the living, trying to raise a scream. And one of these howls fell on an older woman holding a girl no older than 3, who was watching next to me.

The child cried, turning away from the gnarled mass that was once Jack Sparrow during life, not knowing what to make of the scene.

“Look for mommy,” the older woman told the girl, pointing her back toward the parade.

Lesson No. 1: Mommy is a zombie.

It was one of many things I learned from the zombies and their living fans that night.

Lesson No. 2: Zombies come in all different forms. Along with zombie Jack Sparrow and the zombie panda with the inflatable sword at the top of this post, my brains escaped being eaten by zombie cowboy, zombie Native American and zombie Hulk Hogan;

zombie Alice and zombie Mad Hatter;

protest zombies;

zombies who know first aid;

and the cutest little zombie of them all.

Lesson No. 3
: You can tell the difference between male zombies and female zombies by the way they groan.

The girl zombies’ groan starts guttural and low, like the men’s, but ends with “woohoo” à la “Girls Gone Wild.”

Zombino: Harrarrrrruuuhhhuhhhhugggggg

Zombina: Harrarrrrruuuhhh-Woooohooo!!!!

Lesson No. 4: Nothing gets zombies going like fro-yo.

Lesson No. 5: When stuck in a car, waiting on a parade of the undead to shuffle on so that you can drive home, don’t honk at them. It only aggravates them. And then they stumble up to your car’s front windows, moan as loud as they can over the music, take a swing at the brains and make for an all around awkward confrontation.

Next time, turn your car right or left at the next intersection, turn again at your next stop and drive up one of the many parallel side streets.

Zombies only roll down the main drag.

Lesson No. 6: A zombie party isn’t complete without some break dancing by the light of the police cruiser.


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