Was there ever a world where walking from my subway station did not mean running into Hot Priests, where the phrase “sexy White Claw” was meaningless, where people were too tired to go to back-to-back parties on weeknights? Just how long has it been Halloween? Will it ever cease?
Last Friday, I stumbled into a crowded bar, where I simply wanted to suck down an overpriced tequila-soda and dance under neon bisexual lighting, when I noticed that many around me were sporting fake blood and flammable wigs. What the?? I initially thought, wondering if I had simply fallen behind on what’s hip these days. It was only after seeing a person wearing a frothy pink dress — someone dressed as Villanelle from Killing Eve — that I remembered we were upon Halloween season. Or Halloween year? Or my new life? I don’t know anymore.
I feel as if I’ve been discussing costumes and parties for at least two months now. And even that moment at the bar last weekend feels like it happened years ago. Every night since, as I’ve made the long walk from my subway station to my apartment, I’ve passed innumerable characters. Wayne and Garth. A sexy Gumby who had an elaborate photo shoot outside my bodega. Mia from Pulp Fiction, as always. We are trapped, like bugs in amber, by the fact that Halloween falls on a Thursday, dividing opinion: There are those who feel that the occasion had to be marked the weekend before, as Halloween is decidedly not a November holiday, and those who believe that the day after simply makes more sense. The result has been two distinct festive weekends, with an exhausting party-week stretching in between.
And so, to wit: Happy Halloween. I hope you had a good six days of celebration — see you at the parties this weekend!
