200 of ’em, in fact. And they have names. And costumes. The Emerald Enforcer. Mr. Silent. There’s a costume shop that provides their guises, and a lot of these people take their self-instated heroism very seriously. They call themselves “Reals” and have MySpace pages, plus you can check out a Google map to see the cities and regions where they live. There’s quite a few in the NYC area (The Super, Dark Guardian) and even one out in Colorado (Wall Creeper).
I admire folks living out their dreams, and who doesn’t dream of being a superhero at some point or another? So here are a few questions for the day:
Is there any harm in folks doing this? The article points out the danger of some people being deluded by comic books and getting hurt, or even killed while trying to help and protect others.
Have you run into any of these folks? Would you want to?
And, of course, what kind of superhero would you be, should your life take such a turn? Could you handle the schedule of “80% boredom punctuated by 15% helping and 5% terror”?
I think my “Real” name would be The Muse, and I would run around with a gigantic pen that could be converted into a laser gun (used to etch words into rock and metal, of course, not actually hurt people), once more proving that the pen is indeed mightier than the sword. Oh, and I’d show up at writer’s houses and beat down their writing block until it weeps and drags its scaly tail back under the bed.
I see that smile.