Halloween, a night to try and remember
It seems like it was only yesterday when I was 6 years old and
my mother was dressing me up in my Gumby costume on Halloween
night. At that precious age, candy is worth its weight in gold to
all the sugar-tweaked children rampaging through the
neighborhoods.
There was something genuinely exciting about the holiday, and my
friends and I would rush to every available doorway, dragging
behind us half our bodyweight in Snickers bars.
Now that I’m older, but probably equally as wise, I find that
Halloween still sparks some kind of childish giddiness in people my
age.
When I was 13, my parents were quick to inform me that I had
become too old to dress up and go gallivanting around the
neighborhood on a candy quest, although the urge remains to this
day. Apparently, there is an acceptable age bracket for that sort
of activity. I accepted this and thought Halloween fever was a part
of my past. Then I came to college and found the rebirth of
Halloween chaos.
College life has provided us with an annual excuse to dress up
and make complete asses of ourselves. We may not know exactly what
the hell we’re supposed to be celebrating, but almost everyone
knows that Halloween night will be an explosion of debauchery and
hilarity. How often does a man dressed as Papa Smurf get the
opportunity to grind with a woman dressed up as a naughty
nurse?
Perhaps it’s the costumes. Perhaps it’s the parties. Perhaps
it’s the 10 square inches of fabric that women can manipulate into
a costume. The point remains that everyone gets into an
uncharacteristically fantastic mood on Halloween night.
As this will be my fifth year celebrating this “child’s” holiday
under the college clause, I am afraid that it may be my last. I
don’t recall my parents ever getting dressed up as Storm Troopers
and taking body shots off of strangers. To them, Halloween is just
a night on which they have to repeatedly answer the call of young,
sugar-thirsty loiterers. If my age plans to force me away from
celebrating this night in future years, I intend to put up a hell
of a fight.
Of course, we must recognize the need for a select few to remain
indoors on Halloween night to come to the door for the hoards of
Power Rangers and Cinderellas and promote their candy corn
addictions. Nobody would care about the holiday now if they hadn’t
enjoyed it so much as children. But I challenge you to not
prematurely forfeit your college-given right to be awkward and
slightly impaired. All too soon you will be digging through a photo
album and find documentation of yourself having a drink with a
clown, a nudist and Napoleon Dynamite and say, “Ah yes … those
were the days.”
Enjoy yourself this Halloween and please be safe, wherever
necessary.
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