Two huge headless plastic teddy bears lie in the middle of a blue gymnastics mat, waiting to come to life. In stocking feet, a bartender and a cocktail waitress drop giggling to their hands and knees and crawl backward into these inflatable suits.

"I can't even reach the bottom," says Lynne Schreiber, a Tatoo bartender.

"I feel like a beached whale," says Elizabeth Nam, a Tatoo cocktail waitress.

The bar owners and managers rush to help the women stand up and Nam (junior-economics) hops toward Schreiber, bumps the protruding stomach of her suit into her co-worker and falls backward on the ground, rocking in place as she struggles to get up.

Nam and Schreiber are testing out sumo-suits -- flesh-colored, padded outfits that close with velcro -- for Tatoo, 420 E. College Ave. The suits belong to Nittany Beverage Company, 139 N. Patterson St.

The bloated suits are part of a Miller Brewing Co. advertising campaign already in effect in Pittsburgh and other cities. Some bars have even begun sumo wrestling contests. The first public sumo-suit trial in State College starts at 4:30 p.m. today at Tatoo.

The object of donning the fingerless mitts and sumo-suit with painted nipples and belly button and plastic helmet -- complete with straight painted-black hair and a top knot -- is to wrestle. The last wrestler standing or the last one left in the ring wins; and no headbutting, punching or slapping is allowed.

Happy-hour sumo wrestling is the perfect outlet for age-old grudges between husbands and wives, bar owners and dishwashers, says Tom Allard, Miller Brewing Co. district manager.

Size and gender become irrelevant during the wrestling matches.

"Once you get in the suit, it's the great equalizer," Allard says.

And people who find fun bouncing around in the "great equalizer" are the same people who drink Miller beer, Allard says.

Watching Nam and Schreiber, it seems hopping toward one's opponent is the quickest way to make any contact before falling either face first or backward onto the mat. But there is no easy way to get up once you're down, and most fallen wrestlers just slide around in vain on the slippery plastic surfaces.

While Tatoo and Nittany Beverage employees shout encouragement with "Tempers are flaring!" and "Get some air," Nam and Schreiber lie like turtles in the sun, not even trying to stand anymore. Finally, Nam waddles over and jumps face-first on Schreiber's stomach, finishing off with a head-first summersault over the bartender.

"Hitting the floor is so much worse than hitting the other person," Schreiber says, wiggling out of her suit. "When Elizabeth fell on me, it didn't hurt at all. It was like, 'ping.' "

But not everyone thinks sumo wrestling will turn out to be as hysterical as Schreiber does.

"I'd never try it but it might be amusing to watch," says Harry Spiker (junior-wildlife and fishery sciences). "I guess everybody's looking for a gimmick."