I love the concept of Halloween, the dressing up in odd attire, going somewhere for a party, the treats (candy for the children, beer for this adult). However, in practice I hate Halloween. I suck at being clever when it comes to costumes. Every year I vow that Next Year will be the year I plan early and get that costume that people exclaim “Man, that’s a Great costume!” Every year, around October 28th I figure out that I fucked up the Halloween concept yet again, and that I refuse to spend time at Party City picking through the remainders of lame costumes with other assholes who couldn’t think of anything better to do either.
As a child, oh so many years ago, Halloween was simple. In New York we’d dress up as bums, ghosts, etc walk around with pillow cases collecting candy and returning to my house where my mother organized a party. We’d sift through our loot, trading the candy we couldn’t stand to one another in order to amass a stock pile of the the candy we loved. All I worried about back then was avoiding apples which had razor blades inserted in them (I always assumed this to be Urban Legend, a term that I don’t believe existed in the 70’s), getting hit by eggs, or having shaving cream sprayed into the hood of my jacket by the bullies. Maybe the romance of my nostalgia keeps me in love with eventhough I have this inability to participate as an adult. Maybe the Trick is on me….