Farewell, Sweet Movember

Well, another Movember has come and gone. And with it leaves a city full of men who tasted, if only briefly, the awesome majesty of the moustache.

When I first started my Movember journey, I was a little naive. I thought it was just a fun way to raise some cash for a worthy cause - Prostate Cancer Research. Indeed it was, but it was also so much more.

Far from being a simple manifestation of the male genetic imperative to grow hair on their faces, the moustache is the modern urban equivalent of a spirit guide. Every milimetre it grows, you learn a little bit more about the dark nether-regions of your soul. As my moustache slowly emerged, I began to wear more plaid. I dug out my old Iron Maiden LPs, and began to rock out more than ever. And I even briefly considered becoming an Alaskan crab fisherman. My moustache was kinda like those weird worms that Khan put into Chekhov's ear to control his mind in Star Trek II. But, you know, less gross.

People also treat you differently with a moustache. After a few days, I got used to the lack of eye contact, the hard stares in the subway, and the occasional expression of disgust. For every 20 people who recoiled in horror from my mo', one person would look deeply into my eyes as if to say, "I understand you. I know that you walk the frozen path into a burning dawn on the edge of eternity." Or at least that's how I interpreted it.

As it turns out, the moustache is also passport to a pretty good party. The Movember Gala Parte, held at the Phoenix Concert Hall, was all kinds of good times. My Movember brothers "Team Stiff Upper Lip" and I went dressed in outfits befitting our wicked staches: lumberjacks. Apparently the judges agreed it was a good match, as we were nominated for Best Team Mo Bro. We fought valiantly, but were ultimately defeated by an admittedly high-spirited competitor with kick-ass choreography. Damn dancing cowboys. Still, a good night for all.

In conclusion: a moustache is more than hair. It is a fundraiser. It is a party ticket. And it just might be a window into the soul of the man gutsy enough to wear one. So, I will leave you with this: my Movember journey, in pictures. Thanks to the incomparable and patient Jerrold for putting this together.

Lead photo: Team Stiff Upper Lip - Brad Lepp, yours truly, and Joshua Van Tassel.

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