Friday, November 01, 2002

Every year, my Springfield friends throw a Halloween party. It got started when a bunch of them were renting apartments in the same house, and everybody just threw open their doors. It helps that there are brewers in the group, which meant that the beer is both good and plentiful, but we're also talking about a group of seriously warped and creative individuals. I've been hearing about these parties for years before I was actually able to make it down for one. One year, Brian came as a chair. His costume was mostly made out of wood, and was apparently convincing enough that he scared the shit out of quite a few people when the chair they'd been sitting on for 20 minutes suddenly grabbed them. The next year, he was Mr. Hanky, his mom was Kenny, and his brother came as a working traffic light. One couple came dressed as nuns, but with a chain linking them together at the head. Nun-chucks. There were two Darth Mauls that year, both of whom shaved their heads and did the full makeup. One glued horns to his head and had freaky contacts, while the other participated in a choreographed lightsaber fight with Qui-Gon and Obiwan.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that these are some serious Halloween-loving freaks we're talking about here. These people are hard-core.

I, on the other hand, have generally been more of an "also-ran". My costumes are generally decent, but nothing amazingly clever, nothing people would be talking about the next day, let alone the next year. This year, I was Frodo. There was a whole Lord of the Rings theme going on, which made me mostly part of an ensemble cast. I thought about trying to fabricate some kind of hobbit feet, but in the end, I decided to just go barefoot. The temperature was in the 30s. The party was mostly outside. On a patio littered with gravel, and a backyard full of tiny, pointy sticks.

The high point of my night was about 1:30, when some drunk guy looked down at my feet and said, "Dude! You're still barefoot? You're hard-core!"

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