Big: An Interview with a Character Actor at an Orlando Theme Park

You see them everywhere in the theme parks: life-sized versions of cartoon characters. They curtsey and bow, they dance and mime; they pose for pictures, and sign autographs. In return they are kissed and hugged, punched and pinched, drooled on and peed on-all of this is accepted with infinite patience and grace by the actors inside the costumes. These invisible performers are called animators in theme park jargon. Working inside a frame of fur, metal, and fiberglass often weighing up to 75 pounds with limited visibility and restricted range of mobility, the animators suffer from heat exhaustion, and muscle fatigue. Ask them if it is worth it: most of them say, "Yes."

Costumes designed to mimic the proportions of specific characters tend to be quite large or quite small, as are the actors hired to animate them. Enter one of their behind-the-scenes break rooms, and you will find, lounging on couches, working out on exercise mats, watching TV, doing homework, on the phone planning an evening out, beautiful examples of the extremes of the human form. Here, they are accepted and valued for their size; people of average height could not fit into the costumes. Here, they are recognized as being more than just short or tall. They are students, they are teachers, they are parents, they are wrestling fans, they are football fanatics, and they are dancers. One of them is named Robert Monzon. At 32, Robert Monzon is 4'4", an achondroplastic dwarf. Achondroplasia is the most common form of dwarfism, characterized by an average-size trunk, short arms and legs, and a slightly enlarged head and prominent forehead. Being little takes up a big part of Robert's life-it makes buying clothes difficult, he stands on step stools to reach sinks and countertops, grocery shopping is a stretch and he needs extensions on the pedals of his car. He suffers from joint and bone problems typical of his condition. But for Robert, being little is really a very small part of who he is.

With his big brown eyes, lilting Guatemalan accent and loads of macho charm, Robert is an accomplished flirt-a diminutive Don Juan; a compact Casanova. "I don't flirt to get laid," he says. "I just like to make the opposite sex feel comfortable." He has had a fair share of girlfriends, including one long-term live-in relationship. Robert's romances have interfered with travel plans to his native Guatemala; he hates to leave a woman unattended for his two or three week long stays. Women need a lot of attention he says, and he likes to be there to give it to them.

Robert's early life in Guatemala was happy, despite the political turmoil of revolution. His family was upper-middle class and relatively untouched by the fighting. It was only in his late teens that the war hit near home. His older sister was riding home with friends after a night out clubbing when their car was pulled over by soldiers searching for guerrillas. The group was slightly roughed up and completely terrorified but no one was seriously injured. Soon after that, a guerrilla safe house in their neighborhood was attacked by the military. Military helicopters and artillery fire just a few blocks away from home were too much for Robert's father; he decided to move his family to the U.S.

Since emigrating to the U.S. just after his 18th birthday, Robert has spent almost

as much time here as in Guatemala. Some family members opposed the move, fearing that young Robert would be susceptible to the temptations of American "bad values", primarily drug abuse and violence. That didn't happen. After a period of adjustment trying to fit in at Orlando's Oak Ridge High School first with Puerto Ricans, then Cubans, and jocks, Robert finally fell in with the group he had most in common with: the Tree People. That was the nick-name for the head-bangers that hung out under a tree on campus, listening to Metallica, calling each other "Dude." With his long hair dyed black, black clothing, and combat boots, Robert fit right in. Unable to participate in most high school sports, Robert also spent a great deal of time in the theatre department, developing a taste for show biz.

His first job was in the ticket booth at an Orlando movie theatre. Next, Robert moved on to Sea World, assigned (appropriately, he says) to the Penguin Encounter. There, while flirting with a girl, his romantic aspirations were assisted by a penguin walking up and leaning its head on his shoulder. Robert got the girl's phone number. The penguin got an extra herring.

On a day off, Robert went with a friend who was going to drop off a job application at a new place that Robert had never heard of: Universal Studios. In the employment office, he was handed an application. "What the hell?" thought Robert, "I'm here. May as well fill it out." Universal offered him a job as an admissions clerk and he accepted. Now he thinks that it was divine intervention; that God wanted him to go into entertainment, because a year later Universal's animated department was searching for an extra small actor to fit into a costume. They asked Robert to try it on. With his atypical build, Robert had always had trouble finding clothing to fit properly, but the Rocky the Flying Squirrel costume fit perfectly. Robert's aggressive, expressive personality fit perfectly too, and he was transferred permanently to the entertainment division.

It is this strong personality that has allowed Robert Monzon to overcome whatever challenges are thrown before him. He sees himself as a lucky person-with a little divine help now and then. "I think God made me small so people wouldn't hit me when I am nasty to them," he jokes. Encountering someone who is uncomfortable with little people, Robert immediately disarms them by making jokes about his size, then uses his wicked sense of humor to tear them down to the same level. "Life is too short, especially for me, not to have a sense of humor."

Robert, like most little people, does get noticed where ever he goes. He is not bothered by this, he even brags that during his first job he "became a legend." Walking in Merritt Square Mall, he was recognized by a child who exclaimed, "Look Mommy! It's the little man from the movie theatre!" He is amused by how people presume that all little people know look alike. Robert has a second job at a popular Orlando nightclub (he runs the mini-bar, of course) and is often mistaken for his friend Chris, another little person who works at a different Orlando nightclub. Tourists from South Florida often mistake Robert for a little person named David who lives in Ft. Lauderdale and will strike up conversations with him. But, Robert doesn't really mind. He likes the attention and will talk to anyone. Especially if they are female.