Oh my goodness. Yesterday was Crazy City and I was the police commissioner. No one rode through headless on a horse or haunted the office; it was just busy. Fires were started and needed to be put out. I was labeling dividers so I was at the center of the action.
I’d like to talk about my second favorite holiday, Halloween. (My first favorite holiday is obviously Christmas, but I’m not going to rush to that season, unlike my local Duane Reade.) You can act silly and wear funny costumes. When you’re little you get tons of candy and as you get older, you can still eat candy and you get to drink alcohol, maybe with plastic bugs or bloody ice cubes or something.
Growing up, we always made our costumes. No one in my family is good at crafting in the slightest, so we always looked a little rag-tag, but adorable. The year that Pandito got the Fischer Price pool table was the best. That little table comes in a long rectangular box, perfect to cover the torso and legs of a nine year old. I saw that business and knew exactly what I had to be: a juice box.
All I needed was white construction paper, magic markers and a wrapping paper spool (for the straw). That costume was the jam.
Banking on recurrent success, the next year I was a television (box with posterboard). My channel was turned to Boy Meets World, just in case you forgot that I grew up in the 1990s. The television definitely did not capture the magic of the previous year’s juice box. You can’t trap lightning in a bottle.
Further detracting from the TV costume’s awesomeness was the fact that I somehow let my friend talk me into going to her church’s Halloween event instead of going trick-or-treating. I was told there would be a cakewalk. I didn’t know what a cakewalk was, but I assumed it was a hike in a world where everything had frosting on it. I imagined board game squares made of cake and frenzied, sugar-driven hilarity that went on for hours.
Cakewalks are not nearly that cool. You just kind of walk around and occasionally land on a square and someone gives you a dumb prize. The next time someone tells you that the task they are laying in front of you is a cakewalk, you should punch them right in the face, because that means said task is boring, minimally rewarding and entails what seems like hours of mindless, aimless wandering.
Even without the cakewalk, this church celebration was not exactly happening. I like going to church. I think it’s good for the soul; a great place to find community and fellowship. My mother is convinced that if I’d start going to church here in New York I would finally meet a husband. But church is not a place to celebrate a holiday known for its decadence and debauchery. I don’t want to chuck a beanbag through a witch’s eye-hole; I want ALL THE CANDY I CAN FIND!!!! I don’t want to bob for stupid apples covered in the saliva of a thousand others; I want to run around and have all my neighbors tell me I’m adorable.