Halloween - the only thing other than drag shows and Vegas that fuels the cheetah-print economy.

October 31st, 2013, 11pm

It was 19.4°C with overcast. The breeze was gentle.

This year, I decided that I’d finally had enough of sitting at home on Halloween.

It felt odd to make that a conscious decision. I definitely didn’t make a conscious effort to sit on my ass, eat candy, and watch “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!” for the past three years. That lamentable situation grew organically out of the soil of Poor Planning sown with the seed of Being 30ish.

See, I’ve always felt that the “going out” portion of the night should never been planned in detail. That the time you have can only be written on the wind as it passes. For every last ounce my 20s, this was the only way I lived when I wasn’t at work.

Now, for a real laugh, try practicing this exact same philosophy when you’re 30ish and most of your friends have kids. That needs babysitters. That have to be booked in advance. And paid egregious sums of money. The incredulous texts you get in return are worth the price of admission by themselves.

Like one friend told me, his child is the phoenix that rose from the cold, dead ashes of his spontaneity. His mouth laughed, but his eyes looked trapped.

This is something I’ve grown to accept over the years. I learned to plan, they learned to haggle babysitters, and we re-learned to be friends.

But Halloween? No chance. Nuh-uh.

Kids need candy on that night like televangelists need you to call RIGHT NOW, there is NO TIME like the present. It’s a hive-driven tidal wave of desire that no sane adult would try to get in the way of, and besides - let them have this one. You’ll be forcing them to wear poorly-made reindeer sweaters and visit weird aunts in a couple of months. They need a win.

So, I got used to sitting home on Halloween night. Most of the area’s parties are the weekend before to accommodate folks with kids, so I didn’t miss out on goofy themes and cheese trays.

Still, there’s just something unique about the atmosphere of Hallow’s Eve. The wind tastes like sparks, and everyone’s eyes dance like they’re about to board the Gravitron. The world seems completely alive with untapped possibilities. I missed that, and I craved the taste of it.

So, tonight, I put on my fox ears, got my dog dressed up in his Legend of Zelda costume, and we hit the bistros and bars. The haul we sought wasn’t machine-wrapped confection (although those would be fine too, thanks), but a few moments of tasting the atmosphere and remembering what it’s like to carve a night out of raw, electric material.

Sanna, David Wade, Adrian, Kristen and 4 others said thanks.

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Allan Lazenby

Wrencher of bicycles, petter of dogs. Active cyclist and a cycling activist. I unabashedly put the worst of me into words.

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