Halloween
Halloween disappointment: a brief photo essay.
Fresh from the factory, the candy hangs its hope on going home with the right child. Not just any child! Not one who will stuff its creamy sweetness without tasting it! And certainly not the strange-looking young man up the street wearing the hula skirt and shoveling in Charleston Chews like leaves in a bag, no! Charlie Bucket! It waits for Charlie Bucket, yes! Unfortunately, Charlie doesn’t come, leaving the candy with no one but J & A, who both hate Bottle Caps and loathe Charleston Chews, and who are now stuck with 11,000 pounds of them.
Boo! I said BOO! Christ, is anyone out there?
The pumpkin costume cries, its promise of being stuffed with chubby pug legs unfulfilled, as the pug in question screamed with the screams of a thousand shucked oysters at the very presence of the pumpkin.
To put it mildly, Halloween was a crushing disappointment, and I’d like to point out that historically, this is why the holiday has always let me down. Like New Year’s Eve, Halloween is always fraught with anticipation and wonder that cannot possibly be satisfied. And every year, I have been cautious in my preparations, choosing to remain cynical instead of overly hopeful, ensuring that my expectations were as low as humanly possible and therefore, I would always be pleasantly surprised with whatever happened! Yes!
But no. Alas, I was crushed. Crushed! I had such high hopes! Soaring expectations of unprecedented numbers of trick-or-treaters and adorable costumes and hijinks! Tricks! Treats! I decorated, for chrissake. Right now, there is a six-foot hanging witch dangling from my garage, and a giant pumpkin that says WELCOME! in big WELCOMING GODDAMN LETTERS. And a battery-powered ghost glitters from the window! A GHOST. (See above. Fancy, non?) And we haven’t even covered the jack-o-lantern, which is all…jack-o-lanterny and ominous in our office window, acting all ghoul-y and shit.
I went out to Walgreen’s at 5 o’clock tonight in a cold panic, because OH MY GOD we were going to run out of candy like last year and THEN WHAT? (Also, this trip included an ill-advised purchase of a Tweezerman blackhead extractor, and if you were ever wondering, it does not work. As in, you would have to have blackheads the size of quarters to actually get any extracting done. Use your fingers like everyone else.)
We got all excited. We ate dinner early. We sat in the driveway like everyone else, eagerly anticipating the mad rush of adorable trick-or-treaters and their cheerful parents. And then….
Silence. Silence…oh wait! I can hear the raging party across the street being held by adults in provocative costumes that include: a sexy ninja, a sexy pirate, a sexy witch and also, the obligatory sexy French maid. *yawn*
And more silence.
Sad.
And so, my most memorable Halloween remains Halloween 2004. The Red Sox had won the World Series, my best friend was throwing a party, and I was going to celebrate! With bourbon. Which accidentally turned into more than half a bottle of bourbon, to be specific, which left me so drunk I told one of our friends that his fiancee “terrified me to the very core,” fell down the stairs, and walked in on a very deep conversation between my husband and a strange guy just in time to hear him say, “No no, don’t be afraid. Marriage is great- really great. Except for times like these when she’s being a drunken pain in the ass, and I can’t stand to be around her, my God. But don’t let that scare you!”
This was after I told some kids that I later learned were high school students who crashed the party some very inappropriate things involving what sort of escapades (sexual and non) they should and should not be partaking in that I can’t even repeat. Oh and also, I was serving them alcohol with my own two hands. I did not realize this until several days later.
Later, apparently nearing an inability to stand – oh oh, and also, around 11 p.m., because I started early, like around 6 – I insisted that we depart IMMEDIATELY, and proceeded to bark drunken and entirely inaccurate directions to avoid a detour on the Mass Pike, getting us three kinds of lost and also, in a major argument, because while I was drunk and HAPPY to be lost with my head out the window like a Labrador, Adam was sober, and not pleased, not pleased at all to be circling the Prudential Center for the fiftieth time. Especially not with a screaming, drunk wife who was suddenly threatening to puke in the car. Also, a wife who started slurring repeatedly:
“Are you mad at me? I know where I’m going! TRUST ME. I LOVE YOU, HONEY.”
“No. I want to go home. Just relax. Where are we?”
“Oh my GOD, you’re mad at me. YOU. ARE. MAD. AT. ME. WELL, FUCK YOU THEN! FUCK YOU! I WON’T TELL YOU WHERE TO GO.”
I stewed for a moment.
” WAIT WAIT, NO I LOVE YOU. I’M SORRY. BUT FUCK YOU ANYWAY, BECAUSE YOU’RE MAD AT ME. I LOVE YOU. FUCK YOU.”
Drunken angry logic at its finest. We circled the Prudential Center 11 more times while I screamed more obscenities at him and, God bless him, he didn’t open the car door and throw me into Back Bay to freeze to death, which is more than I can say for myself if I were in that situation.
I threw up the entire next morning, and just when I thought it couldn’t get any more miserable, I heard Adam yelling from the bedroom, “I WOULD LIKE YOU TO KNOW THAT THE SOUND OF YOU PUKING IS MUSIC TO MY EARS. ENJOY!”
I had not been drunk like that since college. And I have not been drunk like that since. And sadly, that was my most memorable Halloween ever. I hope yours was better.
*Siouxsie and the Banshees, Dead Kennedys, Sonic Youth, Dave Matthews, and likely 100 more. You pick.
28 comments October 31st, 2006