My job slinging doughnuts for cash was brief but very exciting. It sounded like an all-time career low when I first got the description. But money is money so I took the bait. The assignment didn’t sound tough; four days, two hours a day, $200. Supplement complementary munchkins with urine sample sized servings of Dunkachino and Vanilla Chai at the airport. There were a few catches: the day typically started at 4:30 in the morning and I had to rendezvous with a massive human donut.

God is not awake at 4:30. There is officially no law at 4:30 in the morning. Traffic lights blink red, and you can drive on whichever side of the road you’re most comfortable with. First stop was the local Dunkin Donuts: the only other gathering of 5 or more people conscious at that hour.

Never underestimate the power of small doses of free food. You’ve been to the food court, you know what happens there. I knew in my heart that it would be all we’d need to rev people up for our big message: The New Delta Terminal is moving to Terminal C! That’s right everybody, lets fucking par-tay! You get the Dunkachino, I’ll bust out the Vanilla Chai, and letttss gett biizzzzzy!

We would come to know our many targets as young and old, fat and skinny; they all love free stuff. I even gave some free samples to an extremely wealthy girl who flew in from Mexico City for a nose job. She too ate our munckins, even with a massive bandage on her new nose that made her look half-Muppet. But our main audience consisted of people who are paid by their companies to fly DAILY to NYC and back for business. I once got 35 bucks from petty cash to drive to Home Depot for glue. There couldn’t have been a larger contrast than the one between the commuters at Terminal C and Team Dunkin.

We lost track of the human dounut when we first got there. Over all the security radios, newly crowned kings of comedy were trying out their joke of the year. “Anyone seen the giant donut?” “Uhh, negative over, ask the State Police, they’re always good at findin’ donuts!” Anyone at the airport with a radio was chiming in with their own witty commentary. Finally he showed.

He came out of the bathroom, barely fitting through the exit. He had pink tights, giant orange shoes and the body of a massive glazed chocolate donut. The costume had mildly sinister “happy” eyes and a huge stitched Smile. His first words I heard from the other end of the busy terminal. He was wading through the 14 security guards by the x-ray machine yelling at the top of his voice in total agony: “I can’t stoppp smiling!”

There are now machine guns at the airport and here comes a 6-foot diameter donut, yelling as he goes through security, “They’re eating my children!!!” Army troops with M-16s are confused, busy executives are frightened outright, and at the start, his only friend is the janitor that gives him a high five on the way by. It’s early to deal with strong personality. Dealing with a human donut would take a lot of courage.

He introduced himself as “D” and wouldn’t admit to being anything but a talking donut. You couldn’t see his eyes when he talked to you and he told us off the bat that he was naked under the suit. The suit was a bit dirty too, it hadn’t ever been dry-cleaned and light brown stains speckled his white gloves. We decided that giving him a box of munchkins and telling him to wander around would give us the best show.

One of my favorite donut tricks was the Hug. He’d roll up to awkward middle-aged women and ask them if they’d ever been hugged by a donut. Timidly, they’d usually say “Umm, no..” Without fail, every single one felt pressured to hug this dirty, loud donut. He’d hold them a bit too long and you could see their politeness spoil into complete disgust. It’s rare and wonderful to witness that moment when it’s not you. That morning I saw it over 6 times with different victims.

Next he perched himself down next to a woman on a very important phone call. He put his arm around her and stared at her through his giant eyes. She was powerless, it was not funny to her, and she couldn’t tell the big shot on the other end that she was having a hard time concentrating because of weirdo in a large unclean donut suit.

He truly did not give a fuck. Finding a State Trooper who, no joke, looked like Chief Wiggum, he walked up close and then ran off screaming as though the cop was about to eat him. Once things settled down a bit he went over and asked for a photo op with him as casually as he’d just humiliated the giant police officer. Live donut-cop humor. I couldn’t believe my luck.

After a few days of this, I was close to completing my time with the donut. Appropriately, he saved his best trick for his last day. Taking a couple of chocolate glazed munchkins inside his suit, he targeted a lone businessman on the way to check in. To begin with, the guy looked like a future heart attack; possibly ready to implode if he didn’t make his flight. Like he was playing ticket counter defense, he posted up in front of this man and squatted. Groaning, he let four little chocolate munchkins drop from his crotch onto the floor like little donut poopies. The neatly dressed man only had a giant stitched smile to confront with his complete and utter disdain for the donut.

The customer service director for the terminal came over to us before he was even done pooping and proclaimed her version of the way things should be: “The donut should be nice, and NOT harassing!” But she was wrong. A giant talking donut can do absolutely anything he wants. I thought about telling her that her staff shouldn’t have let him through security, or that I was powerless being that I was not a qualified donut handler. But the only thing I could do was stand there and look back at her, expressionless. Like 4:30 AM, he was truly free of all law.

The donut experience taught me a bit about humility. Smart guys trying to get a laugh off the donut by telling him to get a real job were answered by a perfectly audible human voice behind a giant fabric smile, “You don’t have the balls to wear a suit like this!”. At first, I felt pretty embarrassed to be handing out free donuts at the airport. I saw a girl I went to high school with, and was too embarrassed to explain what the hell I was doing there giving out free samples with a talking donut. One of my friend’s mothers came to the table for some free Vanilla Chai. She didn’t recognize me, and I felt no need to get caught up with her about my latest career acheivment. But as time went on and I watched the donut work his magic, I realized that there really was nothing to be ashamed of. The donut was living proof that nobody should take themselves too seriously. If you did, and you were in Terminal C, he’d be by to give you a nice long, dirty hug.

By Danny Eagle in Columns |

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