I loved being a freelance creative, but chasing brands to pitch them my independent ideas was exhausting. Seriously. Sometimes it was chicken and sometimes it was feathers. For a while it was only all feathers, so I took odd jobs to supplement my income. A friend of a friend offered to put me on her roster of talent who got paid to show up as Disney Princesses to children's parties.
I had to be in Great Neck, Long Island (via the Long Island Railroad) on Saturday at 10am for my break out role as Snow White in a 6 Year Old’s themed birthday party "production."
Upon approaching the house, already dressed as the Disney character, I hear a child screaming. My initial thought was to turn around and go home, but figured it's $1000 for 6 hours, what's the worst that could happen? First Mistake.
I ring the bell and a young mother answers the door clearly frazzled and completely disheveled, while her child, the birthday girl, lays face down on their perfectly polished cherry wood floor crying, hysterically.
Terrified and out of my element, I ask the young mother if there's anything I could do to help, but she suggests that I wait in the living room until her daughter (bawling because she doesn't like her party dress) calms down. Insistent on helping out, I ignore her suggestion and walk over to the irate child. Second Mistake.
"Hi sweetie, I'm Snow White. I'm here looking for my glass slipper. Do you know where it is?" The crying stops, she picks her head up from the floor, turns to me and says "Snow White doesn't have glass slippers, that's Cinderella, stupid" then punches me in my shin with all of her might.
Chaos ensues when the child gets up and starts destroying the beautiful spread of Magnolia pastries and hors d'oeuvres, meticulously placed along the perfectly curated dinning room table.
As the mother and the housekeeper try restraining the child, I hop over to their full bar, pour a glass of Johnny Walker Blue and lock myself inside the bathroom. I try calling my mother, but remember she's in Atlantic City, probably blowing whatever money her and my dad have left, on a crap table at the Borgota. So I down my drink, scroll through my instagram feed and wait 15 minutes until the deafening sound of screaming subsides.
I walk into the living room and focus on my breathing in order to avoid a panic attack. After only three positive affirmations, I look to my right and there are pictures of the family wearing "MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN" hats standing next to, you guessed it... Donald Fucking Trump. Before I could even process what the hell was going on, the mother and child approach me. "Snow White, Emy wants to apologize for the way she was acting before. She was so excited about her party, she didn't sleep a wink last night. Em, tell Snow White you're sorry." The demon child (now dressed in a new ensemble) apologizes just as the doorbell rings.
In walks Sleepy, Dopey, Bashful and Grumpy - no, not the dwarfs, but the kids attending the party who look like they've been sucking Codeine lollypops for days. I introduce myself in my best Snow White voice, but they couldn't give a shit. All they wanted to know was when they could play on the trampoline.
After about an hour of mingling with the 50 or so children, I start feeling sick to my stomach. Then I realize that I haven't eaten anything all day, and am on my second glass of scotch. I walk into the kitchen, inhale some pigs in blankets, and hear the mother calling for Snow White from the back yard. OMF not the trampoline! Third Mistake.
I take off my shoes and climb on to that ungodly, germ infested, springy apparatus trying not to fall, whilst 20 children, with snot dripping from their red runny noses, jump around incessantly. They grab my hands and I have no choice but to put on a smile and try to look like I'm having fun, when in reality I couldn't be more nauseous. And then it happens...The portly little boy, who I watched suck down 4 slices of pizza while the clown made balloon animals, starts puking.
I tried holding it in. I really did, but once the smell of his vomit reached my nose, I was done. I start puking. Kids are screaming, parents are grabbing their children off the trampoline and I drop down to my knees, in my white tights, on to the muddy grass, gagging uncontrollably and wondering what the fuck I'm doing at a republican kid's birthday party dressed as Snow Fucking White - IN GREAT NECK - when less than a year ago I was making branded video spots for fortune 500 companies.
ABOUT SAM JONES / CURRENT PROJECTS
I'm currently working with Morgan Stuart on a new YouTube Series that's a cross between Kids in The Hall, Benny Hill and the Tracy Ulman Show. I'm also working full time now with WHOSAY as their lead storyteller. Brands go to them for creative concepts using talent and I get to come up with ideas for big brands.
I’m passionate about humanity and equality, self expression, pit bulls and yoga. I'm currently shopping a script I wrote with Ryan Willard about a 30 year old divorcee who suffers from anxiety and accidentally becomes a life coach.
I work out 4-5 times a week -- that and marijuana are my health insurance.
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