I’m not much for Halloween but I know some people who absolutely love it. An ex-girlfriend couldn’t wait for it to come around each year and she’d spend weeks preparing what she’d wear. To me, it’s like New Year’s Eve in that it is Amateur Night in NYC. But hey, I’m a snob, and to be truthful, Halloween has a lot of redeeming values that New Year’s Eve doesn’t, like all the great costumes.
I remember being terrified on Halloween as a teenager. If you didn’t go out, you were a wus. So I’d go out with a band of friends. We dreaded running into older kids, but we always did. At which point they’d pelt us with eggs, and shaving cream, and pound us with socks filled with flower (we heard rumors that some kids has socks filled with quarters but never actually saw them). Lots of nervous anticipation and lots of running. And for what?
Last night was unseasonably warm in New York. I saw clusters of little kids in their outfits–a fat kid wearing a Darth Vader costume, and his fat father wearing the helmet next to him. As I approached my apartment building I saw three skinny teenage boys walking quickly. They looked nervous. One was talking into his cell phone. “Nah, you better stay about from 231st street–they’re throwing eggs down there.” Man, I wouldn’t go back to being a teenager for all the tea in China.