All Hallows
I don’t know why people stress about the holidays so much. I’ve never found gift-buying terrifically demanding; dads get golf stuff, moms get pretty, useless things to hang on the wall, and sisters get Harry Potter merchandise. The cooking, while time-consuming, isn’t all that horrible, though to be fair, the culinary arts are, to me, a world of wholesome, congealed ecstasy. People who complain about snow are heretical inbreds whose myriad psychoses leave them reduced to babbling piles of detritus. Out of the whole thing, the only part about which I could reasonably complain is the bother of wrapping presents, which I never fail to botch, but I usually just let my sister do all of my wrapping, anyway.
No, I will tell you what a stressful holiday is: Halloween. It’s easy when you’re a kid. You put on whatever costume your parents come up with for you that year, you go out and get candy, and then you eat the candy. The tranquility of the day continues into your teenage years, when dressing up ceases to be cool, thus reducing All Hallows Eve to just another day. Simple stuff that one need pay no mind in either case.
But then, college comes into the picture, and something happens. Halloween becomes cool again, and furthermore, you don’t have your parents around to choose a costume for you anymore. Suddenly, you must think for yourself, a task to which few individuals are suited.
The best costumes exercise one’s creative muscle. I have seen three guys dress up as rock, paper, and scissors. I have seen Tetris pieces. This year, I even saw two guys dressed up as contestants on Nickelodeon Guts. I have also seen women dressed up as Catholic schoolgirls, which isn’t really creative, but boy oh boy is it hot. The point is, a good costume requires planning, foresight, and ingenuity in order to be successful.
It would stand to reason, therefore, that prudence would dictate that a person start thinking about his or her costume months in advance, not only to allow time to come up with the idea, but also so that there will be time to put the thing together. Yet, without fail, October 30th rolls along, and suddenly we realize that Halloween is not, in fact, months away, that we do not, it so turns out, have all of the time in the world to conceive, design, and build our costumes.
Thus begins a mad scramble to assemble the pieces for what one can only hope will be something recognizable. Some people will do well at this. My sister’s boyfriend came up with a spectacular Oompa Loompa costume in less than a day’s time. I myself only had moderate success as Arthur Dent, which everyone interpreted as “a guy who just got out of the shower” until I explained it to them, at which point they really didn’t get it.
I leave you now with this:
