Junk mail. Junk mail. Useless catalog. Junk mail. Junk mail disguised as mailed check. Junk mail disguised by “hand-written” font. Junk mail. Junk mail. Trash. What’s left? Bank statement - shred, jury summons – why do I even bother to check my mailbox anymore?  Flood insurance statement. And one very heavy envelope from an unknown address – the only one worth investigating. Heavy stock – cream with a good texture. Embossed text – even more expensive than the paper. And the address itself – Miss Maya Chase, under-appreciated assistant with incredible costuming skills and obscure wisdom. Apparently the "cupboard under the stairs” started a stalker-ish trend. Good card stock can hide a lot of stuff, too. Bomb? Poison? So many wackos in the world. Tomorrow’s headline: Random secretary lured into explosion by decent stationery. Better yet: Patient Zero identified, blames embossed printing. Or just open the darn thing? Nah.

And so it sits on the kitchen counter I make dinner. It sits as I eat the microwaved pot pie. It sits all night and the next morning. It’s forgotten in the monotony of my daily routine and left alone so that I can fight traffic and earn paychecks. Then the email arrives on my private account. Trash icon – click. At lunch, it arrives in my work account. Made it through the spam filter, huh? And got past the pack of idiots in IS, too. Not much of an accomplishment there. But it didn’t get quarantined…. Okay, fine – just taking a look in the reading pane. No images though. 

Dear Miss Chase, by now you should have received your invitation to the Gala. We mailed it to 1334 North Beechwood Drive.  If this is incorrect, please let us know immediately so that we can send a replacement to the correct address. You will not be allowed into the event without your personalized invitation. We are attempting to contact you by the two email accounts we have on file as well as a text message to the one mobile number that we have. We naturally assume that all our intended guests have heard of this event – held with incredible success every five years – but have been told in these skeptical times, that we should try to convince those attendees that have not heard of our festivities what a privilege it is to be within our doors. Our event is a once in a lifetime gala. We invite only those people that can add to the environment or entertainment. You have managed to place high enough in one of these two areas to merit an invitation. Full details for the event are included in your invitation envelope. We hope that you will read through the requirements of the night and make your decision to come within the next week. Our venue, though magical in its own right, cannot hold an infinite number of guests and there are three alternates awaiting invitations for each RSVP we receive. If you cannot attend, please be kind enough to the other participants to let us know quickly that a position is available.

Details about previous events can be found at the following links: X, X, X, X, X

Uh huh. I ranked high enough? Funny. They obviously haven’t met me. But…. A gala sounds awesome. A once in a lifetime gala, sounds too good to be true. Skeptical is right. Hand hovers over trash icon. I’ve got 12 minutes of lunch hour left. Let’s see these links. Hovers over them to see if the URL actually matches the link text. First one checks out, but the URL sounds like a private site. Nope. Nice try. Next one. Facebook. Easy enough to fake. And IS has rules about visiting that during work hours. Link 3 – instagram. Okay. I can look at some photos to see what this is.

Oh. Oh wow. Oh – I have to go to this thing. Oh. Scrolling. Eruption of girlish giggles from within a gray/greige cube. No. Must be rational about weird invitations to breathtaking parties. Think. Think. Think. Those could be fake images. They could. It would cost a fortune to set those up, though. Someone would want multiple uses out of them.  So – to google! Let’s see if there are any similar shots in the photo houses where these were obviously pilfered. Getty – nope. Shutterstock – nope. Adobe images – nope. General web – found similar images on their site – nope still not visiting, on their Facebook – makes sense, but still not visiting and on the facebook and instagrams of these 14 people. Interesting. Are these 14 people still alive or were they all last seen five years ago after disappearing under mysterious, yet fabulously-dressed circumstances? Using phone so IS won’t get mad. Facebook has answers, who knew? Still alive, best cosplayer at ComicCon last year. Still alive, on-broadway fashion designer. Still alive, off broadway fashion designer. Still alive, makeup artist judge on reality tv show. Dead – aha! Oh wait, died last year of congestive heart failure. I guess you can’t hold that against the party. Alive. Alive. Alive and now  head of a lucrative publishing house. Alive and thriving. Thriving. Very thriving. Okay – so most of these people hit it big about 5 years ago after a life of non-exposure. And I will not assume that this gala had anything to do with that. You will not get me to assume anything, internet. Would someone make up 14 people? Time for some cross-referencing. Theater sites. ComicCon. LinkedIn. Huh. They look like real people. You almost had me, sneaky gorgeous envelope. Still not sold.

Closing phone. Closing open search windows. Back to work. Traffic. Home. Mail – junk. Junk. Junk – nothing worth keeping. That same luxurious envelope still sitting on the counter.

Deep breaths. Gloves? No gloves. That’s silliness. Right? Right. Open.

No spray of poison powder. No click of an electric switch. No explosion. Good. Better than expected, anyway. And here’s the invite.

You are cordially invited to the Gala – a grand ball celebrating the beautiful, intelligent and creative creations of man in one extraordinary evening. The theme this year is “The Clash of the Fay Courts.” The Gala is an old tradition – over 100 years old and still going. It is based on both the tradition of a Masquerade Ball and a Cotillion. It merges together the fantastic and wild with the epitomes of elegance and etiquette. As such there are a myriad of rules and traditions that must be upheld by each attendee. Please read through what is expected of you thoroughly before making up your mind whether you will attend. The night promises to be something that will inspire your dreams for the rest of your life – but only if you are allowed through the door and manage to remain until the dimming of the lights. 

Are you up for the challenge?

There are normally 300 guests for the Gala and rarely are more than 150 allowed through the door. And only 100 souls are usually allowed to make it to the finale at lights out. "Surviving the night” is an honor few in a generation can boast. And the friendships between survivors last as long as the memory of the night itself.

The obstacles

•Each person receiving an invitation will receive their own persona for the evening. This will be the direction for your costume (must be at least 50% homemade and 100% brilliant). If your costume does not match the high expectations of the affair, you will not be allowed in, invitation or not. You may submit sketches or ideas for your costume to this link for direction and advice to help ensure your work is acceptable.

•You should stay in-character all evening. If you are seen breaking character, you will be quietly escorted out. 

• The dance floor is not completely optional. Dance cards will be issued at the door for those making it in. And all the etiquette around such cards will be enforced. There will be at least one mandatory dance for each person – a link will follow with detailed instructions for the steps. (They are not hard, nor difficult to remember, a variation on an Edwardian reel for the most part)

The rewards

• If you are allowed in and make it to the end of the night, you will be eligible for the grand reward – the costume contest to end all costume contests. The prizes for which are worthy of the name grand and the award is calculated on top of reimbursement for time and materials that went into it. (Thus a $5,000 prize would in actuality be nearer to $5,750 if the costume cost $750 in time and materials used) Please keep your receipts. And please don’t go over $500 in materials – spend all the time you can.

• Although you must stay in character all evening, and you must not reveal your name, nor even your face until the end, there will be cards made for each person to hand out. These cards will lead to a personal site with your contact info after the evening has concluded. Thus, the morning after you can discover you were chatting with a prince, a printing mogul, an art thief, or a librarian and keep in touch. The unique opportunities for meeting people and admiring them for their wit and talent without class or occupational stereotypes is one of the foundations of the event. If you do not give someone your card, they will not see your information. You will be a shadow, a specter, a wisp. Many of our attendees like this particular aspect as it allows them, for the night, to live without regret or normal boundaries. However you wish to advance, is up to you. Your cards are yours to use how you wish.

• The night itself. The night will be filled with magic and music and unbelievable – everything. The food and décor are not to be missed. The chance to step so completely out of reality for even one night will forever change how you view “the real” and what ought to be real. This night strives to be an inspiration for lives and lifetimes. We hope it will do the same for you. 

With every hope that you will attend,

The Committee of the Gala

Okay? Well that’s a lot of hogwash. Baloney. Gobbledegook. Nope. Not buying a bit of it. Let’s see what’s on the next page.

Letterpressed invitation with time, place, dress code (must be “Ball” appropriate – ball gown for the ladies – gala finest for the gentlemen, must be able to dance in the costume, will not be permitted to take off during the evening, will not be dressing on premises, will be a seamstress station for lost buttons, torn seams and other dancing-based costume troubles) See videos of appropriate dances to see the range of movement that will be required.  Menu choices, full menu, bar basics, basic agenda, car service options, hotel options. *Once you RSVP a small booklet will be mailed to you with tips on etiquette for the evening.

No cost on anything. No ticket price. No kickstarter or charity site. No asking for money other than to make a costume and don’t go over $500 in materials. How does all this get paid for? Who’s on this Committee that can afford this? And how on earth did they get my name and stick it on the top of their list? If you follow all the rules, you get a night of outrageous, outlandish, extravagance? What do they get out of it? There must be a catch.

We are the puppets of the rich. Dance, secretary, dance!

For Pete’s sake there’s another page.

Oh – that’s the persona page. 

Black, white or gray. K.

Human, Elven Court, Demon Court, Bestial Court, Spirit Court. Hmm.

I’m a human, well I suppose that makes sense. I’m… Anyone. Well that’s… Broad.

Spoke too soon. Not anyone as in I can be any specific person apparently. No. Too easy. I’m a representative of the human race. I am the embodiment of Anyone. OK. So a philosophical costume. Oddly enough, I could probably do that. Yes. Ooh. Actually I like that. There’s an idea.

And one ratty notebook of scribbled sketches and penciled-in notes, then it’s well past bedtime.

Yawn. Just a lovely thought to daydream on. Nothing more. It does make for a good springboard though. Could be an entertaining lunch time exercise. Can’t fault them for not being interesting.

The envelope sat on the counter biding its time.

It tempted during breakfast, but off I went to traffic and paychecks. Then there was lunch. Still not going to the site. That’s what they want. No no. Just a little cyber-stalking of the 14. The ones that seemed to have big breaks 5 years ago, met new business partners, new backers, new opportunities at “an event”. No one calls it the Gala. No one references the ball. It’s just an event hinted at – in every single “about us” page, linkedIn bio and Facebook timeline. 

My world changed after we met at an event that winter. 

My outlook shifted after an event in February. 

There was an event, where we met and talked and for once, were just so outside ourselves that the next day everything clicked.

Okay – so if it’s a scam, what are they getting out of it?  This would have to be one of the most elaborate build-ups I’ve ever seen: this many pages and profiles all interconnecting and linking, then all the daughter links that pulls from each one. It’s a complex web of info – all in different tones and formats and references. It would be a masterstroke to fake all this. And if it’s a scam, all they get is me dressed in a ball gown at a certain time on a certain date at a certain location. I can tell everyone and my mom where I’m going. I can take my phone and let everyone I know find-a-friend me. Kidnapping? Much easier ways to do that. Assassination? I’m not that important to merit this kind of evil scheme and really, what good would that do? Accessory to another more devious crime? Confused lady in a ball gown distracts security guards while priceless art goes missing. Cops help costumed creature get gown unstuck from manhole cover while thieves make off with 37 vintage automobiles. I’d read that. There’s got to be money in here somewhere. I’d feel a lot better about it if I just knew where it was.

Tonight, I look at their site. Maybe there are answers there.

The Site does have answers, but that just breeds so many more questions. The money comes from wealthy benefactors. Ok – that’s how Universities, Public Television and Artists-in-Residence happen. Not too weird. There are those that come from evenings gone by and want to pay it back. Good. And there are some that are just nutty enough to love something like this – looks like two of them own Renaissance Festivals, one who legally changed his name to King George. Riiiight. And then there is the all-important “host” that seems to be lingering in the shadows, making all the final decisions and organizing the entire thing almost single-handed. No name. Just “the host.” That’s not fishy at all. So it’s a giant party paid for by bored and very eccentric rich people. Yeah, that’s logical.

Oh look there’s more.

Okay the pictures are very tempting. The food images alone could make someone overlook the craziness. The costumes are fabulous. The fire-eaters and magicians and full orchestra? It looks like they planted an entire garden maze for a previous gala. 

Printing just a few of the images. You know, just to have.

I am too easily swayed by pretty. I need another opinion.

That night the best friend is called. Lynn says it’s nuts but she’d go anyway. 

Not exactly helpful. 

When was the last time I did anything really out there? 

And perhaps that’s why I’m still alive? 

A night of extravagance on someone else’s tab and all you have to do is play along? It’s a steal. 

Exactly. They have my address and know I won’t be home, perhaps it’s a scheme to burgle the entire invitee list. 

I’ll house-sit that night. Go.

But.

 Go

What about

Go

Have you thought

Go

Argh.

You’re still not going are you?

Perhaps Lynn wasn’t the giver of sage advice I hoped for. Sage advice. Okay, there is but one place to get that stuff on tap.

Hi mom.

Hi honey.

So I was invited to a big gala by an undisclosed group of people with tons of money to dress up in big costumes and dance all night in the really really big warehouse in midtown. What d’you think?

Go, sweetie.

Really? < there’s a 45 minute tirade on phishing ploys and internet menaces and boogey men that come for girls in the night and a few more details about the actual gala>

You make costumes, they want people in really great costumes. They probably saw a picture of you from the Palooka you went to. I’m sure someone put it on the Facebook. Or maybe there was a Youtubing of it? 

Palooza?

Yeah, that comic thingy you did a few years ago. That hoop skirt was amazing. I told you so, then. You just never listen to me. I always thought it would just be a matter of time before someone noticed how creative you are. I hoped it would be a person in a suit with a job offer, or you know, a guy with a ring, but dance night could be a good start.

You think I should go? You don’t think it’s some sort of crazy scam?

Sweetie? If it is, your dad and I are always just a call away, and you’ll have great story and a new costume. If it’s not, you’ll have the best night ever. Go.

Fine.

The RSVP card went into the mailbox with an echoing thunk. The box next to “accept" was checked twice just to be certain.

My head should be checked. What am I doing?

Well… I’m making the best costume ever is what I’m doing. If I’m going to be mugged and drugged and dragged through the gutter to a fate only the cable version of the 10 o’clock news would cover, then I’m going to look outstanding for the camera. So there.

Three more sketchbooks give their lives to the plans before, finally, one concept shines above the rest.

I emailed the cleaned-up sketch to the costume advice link with a description. And I asked if it would be appropriate. I can’t believe I just asked if a ball gown crossed with a suit of armor would be okay.

The next day I got a reply from Chrys. Chrys (not sure if it’s a guy or girl, so I just have to keep using the name) was very complimentary. But Chrys also had a couple of concerns. Would the shoulder shields restrict movement in case of tall dance partners? What was I doing to keep the overall weight down? Had I thought about a way to ventilate the more metallic areas? 

And Chrys seemed to enjoy giving subtle and less-subtle hints about the night. If you have to stroll down a long staircase covered in exotic flower petals, with a handrail covered in floral arrangements and curling vines, do you think you could make it down elegantly without tripping on a hem? Shoes – flats, right? If the lights are dimmed to candlelight with just spots here and there of brilliant flashes, would the metal be shiny enough to distract with reflections or just dimly glow in harmony? Really? If you were to be hoisted into the air, would the skirt require a swing, or chair type of conveyance or would a harness work without crushing the plating? I’m advising you to wire up a fan into the helmet – fire is hot. Metal is hot. And you shouldn’t melt before the end of the night.

What if I had a fear of heights… or fire?

I what-if-ed first, Maya. Smiley emoji. These are all what-ifs. In fact, everything is a what-if until the night of the gala. Then and only then, everything is.

Oddly enough, those conversations through email were the only thing that made me feel better about going. There was a real person answering and asking very specific questions that couldn’t have been pre-recorded. Someone was playing along – and excited.

I still wouldn’t reserve the offered car service or the hotel room. No. Too many ways that could go wrong. Nope.

I’ll drive myself there and I will drive myself home at a suitable hour.

For the next few months, I work on the Anyone outfit – the ball gown crossed with scale armor concept – each scale has been beautifully written on with a device used to keep people from knowing the “real you”. Any defense mechanism and miscommunication or misdirection is listed somewhere on those metallic scales. There are several holes in the armor, though. And on the tiny bit of skin that can be seen, written in red is – I believe, I think, I dream, I hope, I fear. Under that armor – I am Anyone. 

Throughout, there is doubt. Much like the costume, itself, it’s all gray. Gray on gray on gray. A thousand layers of not black and not white.

The night arrives. I drive myself in my dinky little car to mid-town, the ritzy part. And I pay 20 bucks to park across the street at the Hotel lot. It’s lit and I can see both the warehouse and the hotel from the spot. The Warehouse is a bad name for this place. It was once a warehouse. Now it’s a huge conference center. And everything inside can be moved or removed to make any configuration needed. 1 floor, 2, 3? Easy. Tiny meeting spaces or giant ballroom? Done. I had researched the venue. It could be anything inside. Research was rather wasted there. I took my luggage and hoofed it to the lobby of the hotel. Snooty Mcsnooty-face. But at least with luggage in hand I looked like a guest rather than a random squatter.

And dressed. Not bad. Actually not bad at all. Now I just have to walk out of the restroom stall and back to my car to dump my bag and back to that other door.

Just have to leave the bathroom.

Leaving the bathroom.

Lifting hand to turn handle on door.

What am I doing?!

I should just get back in my jeans and go home.

I didn’t see anyone going in earlier. This is all a big fiasco waiting to happen.

Even if it’s not a scam, I won’t remember the etiquette, or the dance steps. I’ll trip on rose petals and die in a grand mess of twisted though beautifully calligraphed metal.

Breathe.

Phone is in place with extra battery pack. I could at least see if I’m allowed in. If not, no worries. If so, I could at least see what’s going on for myself.

Stall door opens. Restroom door opens. Hotel door opens. Car door opens. Pause. I could get in.

No I couldn’t. I can’t drive in this getup. Hoop skirt plus parking brake, not an option.

Fine.

It’s a terribly long walk across the street to the other door. And there is someone there. A big guy with a clipboard.

Getting closer. And closer. I could still turn and run. But I really want to know if this outfit can get me in.

Name?

Maya Chase

Hold on please. He takes a photo of me with his phone. Sends it into the aether.

It’ll take a second. He smiles as he looks at my outfit and my nervousness.

Ding. Text. You’re in. Have a fabulous evening Miss Anyone.

(All the endings start here)