So it really was a fantastic costume.
Amongst my coworkers the camps were squarely divided. Half thought I was a character from a film and half were no idea what I was. Some guessed that I was dressed as some old man and I even had a person guess that I was dressed as Elvis.
But at the dive bar party after work people instantly recognized me. One person said that if it weren't for girls dressed in slutty costumes I would easily have had the best costume of the evening. Another said I didn't so much dress as Hunter as channeled his spirit. I even had a person who had actually met Hunter on a couple of occasions and had tried to keep pace with him, resulting in an evening where three quarters of the events were blacked out, compliment me on my recreation.
But I couldn't help but feel that there was something drastically wrong with a universe where a doctor of journalism was relegated to designated driver. Goddamned pig fuckers!
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