Dirty Martini, Anyone?

I am just not into Halloween this year. I used to love it as a kid and even into adulthood. It was so much fun dressing up as a pirate, a soldier, or a hobo and going door to door to get free stuff. What could be better? I’d knock on a door, utter three little words, and poof; I’d get something sweet.

Of course sometimes I would get seven pennies, or a tootsie roll, or worst of all, those peanut butter candies wrapped in the generic orange and black wax paper. God, those were awful. But I would carry on; traversing the neighborhood in search of the Holy Grail of Halloween treats…the elusive full size candy bar. Three Musketeer, Hershey, or Nestle Crunch, it didn’t matter…if I got a full size bar of anything, the night was a success.

Later in life, Halloween went from innocently scavenging the neighborhood for delicacies dressed in something cute or funny to a bacchanalian blow out at a friend’s house dressed in something gross or offensive. I remember seeing friends with fake blood all over themselves with a coat hangar through their head, deranged zombies, and slobbering freaks. I’ll never forget the time I went to a party and saw my buddy Alan, soaking wet, sitting in a wheelchair. I asked him what the hell he was supposed to be. He said, “Leon Klinghoffer.” Ha….rude but clever. That was the same night I hurled the night’s alcoholic intake from my mouth and nose just as Linda Blair had done years earlier. The innocence had been irrevocably lost.

When I became a responsible member of the community and passed out candy myself, I did it for all the wrong reasons. I wasn’t trying to put a smile on a child’s face or, delight in watching the young goblins enjoy an old tradition. I handed out candy so I could check out all of the hot mothers in the neighborhood. Inevitably, one mother said to me, “Aren’t my two little ones adorable?” And staring at her chest I said, “Yes they are, but they are anything but little.” Needless to say, I rarely saw her or her kids from that night on.

I guess age and familiarity have pushed me towards going sour on Halloween. As I have grown older, I have noticed that the world is scary enough as it is, and around here, it’s hard to tell who is dressed in costume and who is not. But to those of you who will be reveling in the holiday, I salute you. Cheers…

And Now, Our Moment of Motto…

Alaska: “There’s No Place Like Nome…”