Random Halloween Memories

Being a redhead growing up in the 80s, I kept hearing that I should dress up as Pebbles Flinstone, so one Halloween I made it happen. I got all prehistoric and even glued a plastic bone to a hair clip. My hair defied gravity. And the only reaction I remember is a woman who looked at me and said, “Oh! You’re a… cavewoman!”

I always forgot to ask for pennies to fill the Unicef box they handed out to us at school and I always got lectured the next day. What can I say, teach, I had candy on the brain, and let’s face it, Ethiopian kids are probably getting used to not eating.

My fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Redfern, played the movie Watcher in the Woods for the class on Halloween. Since it was put out by Disney, I’m sure she assumed it was harmless enough. Almost twenty years later, I’m still a little traumatized by it. It’s the scariest movie I’ve ever seen, and I didn’t even see the whole thing. She ended up having to turn it off halfway through because everyone got so upset. When I was in college, I told my friends this story and they insisted we rent it on Halloween. Even I assumed it would be more funny than scary, but that was not the case. Only a few were able to make it all the way through, and I wasn’t one of them.

One time at a Halloween party I ended up hooking up with my friend’s brother. In my defense, he was dressed as He-Man.

I only went to Salem on Halloween once, in college. I dressed up as a witch; I’m nothing if not creative. 98 Degrees was playing on a little stage. They were a new band and hadn’t yet made the lasting impression on the landscape of pop music that they have today. (Give me just one night! Una noche!) They were trying to engage a mostly bored audience, and Drew Lachey asked me if I was a good bad witch or a bad bad witch. I wanted to play along, but it was such a weird question that I could only say, “What?” If only I had a time machine and could take advantage of my proximity to Nick Lachey that night, and tell him that I’m from the future and that he must not marry Jessica Simpson. Or waste another day trapped in the shadow of his mistakes.

In my early 20s I went to a friend’s party dressed as an angel, and later on left my halo in the backseat of a cab. Doesn’t that sound like a Bob Dylan lyric?

Also, my parents didn’t start handing out full-size candy bars until after I didn’t live with them anymore. What the hell?