I know what you did last night…
Well, I know what some of you did last night. For the first time since 1998, Halloween fell on a Saturday night. Portlanders seemed to treat it accordingly.
I skipped dressing up this year. I had no real inspiration, no event to go to. I attended the Paranormal Party a few years back, dressed in Little Orphan Annie wig, red pearls and pink muu-muu. (Not tutu, as a co-worker tells everybody. There is a difference.) It matched my beard. Last year I did an evil clown thing. This year I was an observer.
And still I managed to scare.
Courtesy of Outlaw Vern
The last few years you’d think Freddy Krueger lived on our street. The next-door neighbor kids would knock, but most would pile into cars and go to richer neighborhoods. I bought two bags of candy, figuring we’d have one and three-quarters bags left over, plus what the kids scored.
They were gone in an hour.
My niece, a Purple Witch, stood at the driveway entrance, handing out Snickers and Milky Ways. Our killer attack dog would go nuts with every group, adding to the effect. I watched from out of sight, ready to get truly scary should anything inappropriate happen. A couple of punked-out teenagers complimented her on her get-up, and gave her some of their candy. Sweet!
Soon we had to kill the lights and hide in the dark. The groups of trick or treaters lasted two hours longer than our candy stash. The kids took to the streets; it was their turn.
I did my part for the parents. I’d switch from Ducks game to Blazer game to World Series, and hear hootin’ and hollerin’ from outside my window as mom and dad caught the score. There were years that I would offer shots and beers to parents; but having kids put an end to that. Effin’ responsibility. Got to put on a good front.
After things quieted down, I hopped a bus to downtown. Hawthorne didn’t look that much different than usual. I saw Japanese girls in bee costumes, many six-foot-plus trannies-for-a-night, and more blood-soaked brides than Henry VIII. I’d like to give a shout-out to the gal in the gold lame mini-skirt that was just a size too small. The curtains matched the carpet. 
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The place to be? Down near the waterfront. Paddy’s and Jammin’ 107.5 had a tent on SW 1st and Yamhill, and the line to get in was a block long. Club Sesso had events going on, tied in with the Crystal Ballroom’s Annual Erotic Ball. I was offered a free admittance pass from a friend, but had to politely decline. I had no date, no costume. (What was I gonna do, go as a Road Warrior?) As much as I’d love to meet (and write about) Ron Jeremy, I’ll try to do that on a quieter night.
The bus ride home was full of drunks. One kid had peed his pants and was using his bicycle for stabilization. I must say, the partiers of the female persuasion were looking exceptionally nice. It would be just fine with me if y’all showed that much leg every Saturday night!
It was kind of odd for me, seeing so many folks out and about. The walk home is usually devoid of human contact in the wee hours. I walked past a young mother and her son, who looked about five. She shied away, giving a cautionary hello. The youngster, who caught no evil vibe, said, “Happy Halloween, mister!”
Aww.
So we are done with Halloween for another year. (Most of us anyway. Some of us like doing the spooky thing year ’round.) Now the only thing you have to worry about going bump in the night is me…
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costumes,
downtown,
Halloween,
trick or treaters
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