I, Superhero!! :. Mike McMullen
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know how widespread that knowledge is. If there’s a message to get out to the cops, it’s that I’m not a kook. I’m a reasonable person. They’re my first call if I have time, but I’m not going to sit around waiting for them. That’s why I’ve got a stun baton, pepper spray, smoke bombs, etc.”
“What do they say when you encounter them as Geist?”
“They’ve told me to stick to charity. I get that a lot.”
12:30 P.M.—SOMEWHERE EN ROUTE TO LEMONADE STAND
We’ve been driving around trying to find the lemonade stand for almost an hour. Geist asks me to check the MapQuest printout he’d made of its location, and I start to wish he had an Alfred back at the cave he could get directions from, or at least a decent GPS.
“Are we lost?” I ask.
“Hey, you’re with a superhero…. What could go wrong?” I laugh, but deep down I think how much those sound like famous last words.
1:15 P.M.—AT LONG LAST, THE LEMONADE STAND
Upon our arrival, Geist hops out of the car and delivers The Spiel flawlessly to the parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, assorted hangers-on, and lemonade stand groupies milling about the otherwise quiet residential corner.
“Oh my goodness!” an avuncular type says to the kids.
“Look at that! Look at him!”
“Hi! My name’s Geist, I’m a real-life superhero. I’m on the Internet and stuff like that.”
“Go get some lemonade!” the uncle says.
Geist buys us each a one-dollar glass of lemonade, paying with a twenty and donating the change.
“Why thank you!” the mom/cashier says.
I can only assume that Geist thought she and the other mom, both young, rather hottish, and wearing tank tops and short shorts, didn’t hear The Spiel the first time ’round, so he repeats it.
“Oh!” one of the mothers says to her kids. “He’s a real superhero!”
“Where’s your cape?” one of the little boys asks.
“I actually don’t have a cape because it gets in the way. I also don’t have any superpowers.”
“Oh,” the boy says, and wanders off.
“I do have lots of widgets and gadgets,” Geist calls after him, but the children’s attention spans have expired. We make our exit, thanking everyone again for supporting the troops.
“Have you ever had people react poorly when you approach them?” I ask, when we get back to the car.
“Kinda. Not really. I guess it’s just too bad when there’s a kid who won’t come up to you. You know, with the coat it’s a little weird.”
“I’d imagine” is the only appropriate response I can think of.
I’m not quite sure how long Geist can keep up this pace, running from one thing to the next, but so far, it’s been surprisingly enjoyable. We’ve spent so much time doing for others, I’ve forgotten about my house, my job, and all the little things that had overwhelmed me the day before but now seemed less urgent.
1:25 P.M.—ANIMAL SHELTER
We pull in at the shelter just as a man is riding his bicycle across the lot.
“Hi there!” Geist calls as he exits the car. The bike rider gives no indication whatsoever that anyone has spoken to him. Geist, as ever, seems not to notice. We grab some dog and cat food from the trunk and head in, where a bored-looking teenage girl sits behind the counter. Geist launches into the Spiel, this time ending with, “Can you tell I’ve said that before?”
“Heh. I’m Danielle,” the teenager says, as two more equally disinterested-looking girls walk out from the back.
“They’re Michelle and Michelle.”
“Oh! That’ll be easy to remember. I’m Geist. I’m a real-life superhero.”
Blank stares.
“I’ve got a card.”
The blank stares change to bemused looks. I’m not sure this is an upgrade. Geist pulls me aside and tells me to go get the City Pages, his emergency ID, from the car. When I return, Geist gives it to Danielle.
“Here you go…. I’m not just a nut who runs around in a funny costume.”
“I was going to look you up on the Internet,” Michelle says.
“I’m on there.”
“I know, I saw you,” the Other Michelle says.
“This is my new friend,” Geist says, indicating me. “He’s an author, and he’s writing a book about people like me.”
“Are you a superhero too?” This from Danielle.
“No. I’m barely a writer,” I admit, trying to put a “yeah, I know this is kinda weird, but if it helps, we’re not taking it all that seriously, either” inflection in my voice.
“Well, you guys take care,” Geist says, after they’ve taken all the pet food into the back. “And I appreciate you taking care of the animals.”
“Thank you!” Danielle and Michelle say.
“Thanks!” the Other Michelle says.
Outside, bike boy rides past again.
“How’s it going?” Geist asks.
This time, the man at least looks in our direction, acknowledging that someone has spoken. He still doesn’t stop, though. I imagine how we must look to him, and all things considered, I can’t say as I blame him.
Our last charitable mission of the morning is a Salvation Army “Fill the Truck” drive. We discover to our dismay that it’s back in the same neighborhood as the lemonade stand. I decide to take advantage of the drive back across town to do some more questioning.
“So, what inspires you to do this? To help out all these people?”
Geist thinks for a bit before answering.
“Well…it’s kinda hard to say. I was watching CNN on September 11, and I was watching it all day on TV. And I think we all got a sense of powerlessness and helplessness, and I think it’s time we take it back, and, you know…just not be defenseless. That’s the anticrime thing. The charitable stuff, I can’t say what that is. I’m not ultrareligious, although I was raised in a religious home. I guess the only other thing I can think of is, I guess we’re all a jerk, at times, in our real life. And how do we make up for it? We all make mistakes. And can we be better people?”
2:00 P.M.—SALVATION ARMY DRIVE
We reach the Salvation Army event just as it’s starting. It’s just us, a Salvation Army semi and an old man with some sort of hearing aid that’s connected via wire directly to his brain (no crap), making him look something like the beta version of Lobot, Lando Calrissian’s aide in Cloud City (from Star Wars: Episode V).
I’m not sure what good the device is doing since the man’s response to every question or statement is a loud, noncommittal, “Yup!”
GEIST: “I’m a superhero.”
LOBOT: “Yup!”
GEIST: “Here’s a card.”
LOBOT: “Yup!”
SALVATION ARMY GUY: “Would you like to stay and get a receipt for your donation, sir?”
LOBOT (as he gets into his vehicle and drives off, sans receipt): “Yup!”
Other than our run-in with a famous movie cyborg, the “mission” is uneventful. I’ve noticed by this point that most of the