I love Halloween. It’s been my favorite holiday for the longest time, which I attribute to being a distant relative of Bela Lugosi. Where most kids would shiver with anticipation for Christmas, I got the same way with All Hallow’s Eve. My mother used to say that she might not get a birthday card, but she always knew I’d send a Halloween card.
There’s just something delicious about having one night to be anything you wanted to be, whether it was a puppy, witch, clown, Playboy Bunny…and get candy to boot!! Homemade candy apples and popcorn balls! Glorious days…one year, my older cousin Karen did my makeup. I thought I looked glamorous, but more likely looked like a pint-sized hooker. (I later found out she was a “dancer” in a gentleman’s club.)
Then Halloween took a dark turn. People started tampering with candy…I still can’t fathom who would do this. If you were even still allowed to go trick or treating, you could still get candy bars in wrappers, but even those weren’t immune to sabotage…people started giving out quarters, or worse, pencils, small packs of crayons, and in adding insult to injury, toothbrushes.
But one day you’re an adult!! You can go to parties and drink and dance like crazy, and no one looks twice…being dressed like a “Lil’ Devil” or a maid takes on a whole different connotation. Dry ice in the punch bowl and glow sticks in your drink glass…hint: if you’re ever having a Halloween party, track down blue light bulbs. What a blue light does to food is hilariously disgusting.
The best is when everything comes together so perfectly with your costume that no one recognizes you. The joy that this creates is indescribable…it is an invitation to riot, and being completely honest, torture certain people a wee bit. One year I decided at the last minute to go to my neighborhood dive bar for a party. I threw a costume together of odds and ends in my closet/storage bin: tinsel wig, black leggings, high black boots, and a tee shirt with a filthy saying on it. Add a handcuff belt and a ton of well-applied makeup, with a slight Slavic accent…no one knew it was me. Oh, the lines I heard!! I never revealed it was me until long after the party. Then one day, you’re married and giving out candy, only now you find yourself on guard…to what might be on the other side of the door. I was in the habit of having a firearm by the front door on Halloween (just in case) and one night I was glad I did. Doorbell rang, and upon opening it, there were 4 young men…large young men, dressed like they were going to play baseball. Complete with bats. I said, “Aren’t you guys a little old to be trick or treating?” I was rewarded with a sneer, and was informed they were coming back from “batting practice.” I slid my Colt into my waistband, and said “Oh, I just came back from practice too.” They stared and quickly backed down my steps and took off…I yelled out the door “Don’t you want any candy?” The next morning we learned that every pumpkin on our street was smashed, until my house. Damn kids…
Have a happy and safe Halloween, kids!