The curse of Halloween as finally been lifted.
For the past five years, I have had a tenuous relationship with the accursed night. But, I love Halloween. I mean, who doesn't really? As a kid, I used to LIVE for that night...preparing for days the haunted house that I would construct in my grandmother's garage. I simply wanted one thing: the scare the living bejeezuz out of all the neighborhood children. Nothing makes me more happy that the terrified shrill of 6 year olds in Ninja Turtle costumes. But, Halloween took a sharp nosedive into pure suckiness once I moved out of my parent's house and away from the limitless supply of tiny babies for me to frighten. In the age of late teen and early twenty-somethings it became about going to huge street parties dressed up as some ironic celebrity and vomiting out the 12 shots of vodka that you received from a "slutty Rainbow Bright" or something of the sort. I would foolishly go along for the ride and curse every second of my decision.
It went on like this for the past five years. Not always some huge party, but always an enormous setup for bone-crushing disappointment. What happened to my beloved holiday? Suddenly it had this huge pressure to become "the best night ever" and had to involve waiting in line...outside...in the cold...in costume that was not suited for the weather... After so much disappointment, I learned to not get excited. In fact, I came to simply dread any plans for Halloween and would prematurely write the night off as a disaster.
But there is a good ending to this story. While all of the odds were against me, I managed to have the best Halloween in a long time. It didn't start off promising though. Matt and I really didn't have an clear plans and around 7:00 it started snowing. But, despite the fact that the weather had turned into bullshit, we met up with some good friends of ours at their little pad downtown, started with a couple of drinks and a crappy Icelandic movie about being stranded on a whaling boat. The company was good and everyone's mood was warm despite what was going on outside. Later we shuffled through the rain and snow to the kookiest little bar. This place seemed like it was MADE for Halloween. It was a little punk rock joint down in the basement of these 100 year old buildings. The moment I walked in, I felt like I was in a movie. There were skeleton boys, black cats and little ghoulies everywhere, two pitchers of Montreal beer and a Cramps cover band that was fronted by a skinny kid in his underwear was playing on stage. Everything just seemed right in a perfectly demented way. I leaned over to my friend, Myra and shouted in her ear, "Best Halloween in a long time! Thank you!".