Tourist: Can I take a picture of you by the fountain?
Pink Man: Nope.
Green Man: Nope, nope.
Tourist: I’ll pay you. Seriously. I’ll pay you. My son will love this, seriously love this. He’ll think you’re from another planet.
Green Man: We don’t take pictures without Blue Man.
Pink Man: We do have the blue suit in that backpack over there.
Green Man: Yeah, get in the blue suit. Then we take the picture.
Tourist: I can’t get in a unitard. I’m from New Jersey!
Pink Man: Then no picture. Not without Blue Man.
Green Man: Nope, no picture, nope.
The tourist stares at the backpack. It looks abandoned. At home, he’d be worried it was a bomb. But here he just wonders if the blue suit will fit him. He wonders if it’s clean. He shudders. He thinks of his son’s bright eyes and obsession with UFOs. His young son, who doesn’t yet know fear, who tells him that of course he’d get on a UFO and go exploring. “It’s space, Dad,” he says. “You have to go see what you can’t see or you’re just a chicken,” he says and squawks before descending into giggles.
Tourist: Is there a place I can change?
Green Man: Blue will look good on you.
Pink Man picks up the backpack. Green Man and Pink Man lead the man toward a nondescript building. Horror movies always begin this way the tourist thinks. He suppresses an urge to run, to squawk like a chicken. Green Man bends to pick a dandelion.
Green Man: My girlfriend loves dandelions. I say they’re weeds and she says who cares, beauty is beauty.
The tourist slows. He sees what he couldn’t see. Pink Man and Green Man so free of self consciousness, so free of shame. Unitards on grown men. He giggles.
Tourist: I actually really do look good in blue.