Halloween: a time of costumes, culture, creativity and crunk-ness. Curiously clever correspondent Claire Friedman has the evening figured out. She presents to us a set of possibilities, some hilarious, some haunting, and some ending in halloweenie, all for your enjoyment. So take a second, click around, and CHOOSE YOUR HALLOWEEN ADVENTURE!
It’s 10:30 pm on Halloween night. As per usual, you have yet to think of a Halloween costume. As you rifle through your closet once again, growing more desperate by the minute (maybe I could just be an 80s person? Or a sheet ghost?), you hit the jackpot: an old shearling coat and a bolt of orange fabric. You don’t remember why you have either of these things in your closet, but damn are you glad that you do. You’ve gone from zero costumes to two stellar options: you could be either a pumpkin or the IKEA monkey. Wow – you are a Halloween genius. You give yourself a pat on the back for resourcefulness.
PUMPKIN: Why mess with a classic? You work some arts-and-crafts-magic on your bolt of orange fabric and voila! You, my friend, are a damn fine pumpkin. You take a couple shots of pumpkin-flavored liquor, which is really gross and makes you feel vaguely cannibalistic. As you knock back your third one, you have the feeling that you’re missing something. Shit! Your midterm paper (that you said you would do last week but actually just watched Netflix in bed) is due tomorrow morning! You should really work on your paper, but all your friends are going to some awesome party downtown. Also, you’re already dressed as a pumpkin… As the alcohol settles in your stomach, you have a decision to make.
IKEA MONKEY: Um DUH the IKEA monkey was only the greatest thing to ever happen
to IKEA to the world. The choice was obvious. The downside? Most people think you’re just wearing the coat because you’re cold. Or that you’re a very simian and badly thought out Macklemore. Oh well-–you pull your hood over your head and prepare to head off into the night. The only question is, where to go? You’ve heard that Cannons is going to be pretty wild tonight, but you also wanted to check out Frat Row and flaunt your awesome costume. What’s an IKEA monkey to do?
Go to Cannons!
Go to Frat Row!
BUTLER: Ughhh seriously? As you walk to Butler, stack of books in hand, you try to give yourself a mental high-five for being so studious, but you’ve had a bit to drink and you keep missing. You’re still wearing your pumpkin costume because it’s Halloween and dammit, you worked
hard a mediocre amount to make it. As you trudge up to the catalog room, your pumpkin belly bouncing as you go up the stairs, you notice an odd green haze seeping from underneath the door to the stacks. This is some legit Ghostbusters shit…or it could just be a combination of alcohol and lack of sleep. Your books are getting really heavy and you’re starting to get embarrassed about loitering above the stairs in a pumpkin costume. Do you go explore the green haze, or go (finally) work on your damn paper?
Sneak into the stacks!
Work on your paper!
CANNONS: Worst idea ever. The temperature inside Cannons is rivaled only by the temperature on the surface of a sun. And you, my friend, are wearing a shearling coat. Faced with at least a hundred thousand sweaty college students, you’re swimming in a pool of sweat (mostly yours, but, disgustingly, not all) within seconds. You need some air. You push past four slutty cats and two fire-fighters before you see them: the one you’ve been crushing on since the second day of freshman year, standing alone and dressed as a banana. You’ve never seen anybody look so good in a banana costume. This is, you suddenly realize, the banana of your dreams. But you’re not sure you want to approach the love of your life when you’re sweating through your shearling coat. Do you go outside and wind-dry your pits, or approach the banana?
Will you go outside?
Or will you approach the banana?
DOWNTOWN: “Fuck graduating on time!!” you yell happily, stashing an entire bottle of vodka in the folds of your pumpkin belly *for the road*. “Let’s go downtown!” On the subway, you sit next to a belligerently drunk girl in a dinosaur costume. Good thing you’ve still got your bottle of vodka, right? You look down to find that you accidentally stored your alcoholic treasure upside down… congrats, drunkie, your beautiful pumpkin costume is now thoroughly soaked with vodka. You smell like what Bwog imagines the floor of Cannons to smell like. To add insult to injury, your friend’s party turns out to just be a bunch of NYU students hanging out on a roof. You need some space. You’re standing outside, stinking up the entire street, when a man dressed as a Dothraki warrior offers you a cigarette. You strike up a conversation and he asks if you want to go to “a real party.” Your stranger-danger warning bells are going crazy, but the alternative would just be going home. You’ve got a decision to make.
Go with the Dothraki warrior!
FRAT ROW: By the time you roll up to frat row, you might have had a bit to drink. Good thing you have the extra padding from your coat–you keep running into all sorts of shit. Frankly, it’s a bit embarrassing. You wobble around a frat house for a while, leaving a trail of spilled beer and stuffing from your coat (you think you ripped it going up the stairs but actually have no idea what the hell is going on) in your wake. You strike up a conversation with an unusually sexy pirate who doesn’t seem the least bit fazed when you yell “AHOY MATEY!” in an attempt to get their attention. The pirate leans in and asks for permission to come aboard if ya know what I mean. High-five, you! Sloppy Halloween-hookup-wish granted! You nod vigorously and the pirate tells you to meet them outside. You begin to follow them out the door when you see one of your best friends throwing up in a sink. You like to think of yourself as a good friend… but how often do you get the opportunity in life to hook-up with a sexy pirate?
Follow the sexy pirate.
Help your friend.
APPROACH THE BANANA: You slick back your hair, adjust your tail, and approach the banana. “Hey,” you say smoothly. Inside your coat, you’re sweating like you just ran a triple-marathon, which isn’t a thing but it’s the only way to describe how much sweat you’re keeping inside your coat. “What?” the banana yells, because Cannons is fucking loud. “Hey!” you yell back. “What?!” “Hey!!” The banana can’t hear a damn word you’re saying. So, with several pumpkin beers in your system and sweat dripping down your neck, you yell, “I think we’re soul mates!!” Right. As. The. Music. Stops. Yup–everyone at Cannons just heard you profess your love to a confused looking banana. The banana manages to say “erm…what….?” before the next pseudo-rave song begins blaring through the speakers. Instead of attempting to explain what just happened, you get your sweaty self out of there ASAP and spend the night eating mini-Snickers-bars in the shower (tricky, but possible). Some things are just not meant for this world. The IKEA monkey at Cannons is one of them.
WORK ON YOUR PAPER: Wow, you are one studious motherfucker. You just passed up a Halloween adventure so you could drunkenly write a paper. You’re not sure if you should be impressed with your work ethic, or if you need to reevaluate your priorities. You settle down to knock your paper out of the park… and promptly fall asleep on your keyboard. A pumpkin costume is, after all, basically a giant pillowy ball. You wake up eight hours later with a raging headache, a keyboard imprint on your cheek, and approximately half a sentence on your screen. You’ve effectively lost at Halloween. Try again.
FOLLOW THE DOTHRAKI: “Yeah, sure,” you say in your best please-don’t-be-a-murderer voice. The next thing you know, you’re sitting in the back of a limousine with an entire horde of Dothraki warriors. Is this a bizarre dream? You can’t tell because you just took something that looked an awful lot like an aspirin but definitely was not. You make small-talk with the Dothrakis as you bounce from one club to another. You learn that one of them is in med-school and moved out to New York to be closer to his family, and another has two cats named “Puss” and “Boots.” For a group of men with the occasional face tattoo, they’re actually really nice people. The night dissolves into a blur of alcohol, lights, and horse blood (kidding… ). Was that just Beyonce? Is this real life? You wake up the next morning amazed that you’re still in one piece. You’re in an unfamiliar bed and there’s a woman dressed as Miley Cyrus and a man dressed as Robin Thicke sleeping soundly next to you. You quietly wiggle back into your smelly-vodka-pumpkin costume (the only clothes you have) and ignore the stares you get on the subway back to Columbia.
GO OUTSIDE: You give your dream-banana a smile and make your way outside. Instantly, you can feel yourself becoming human again; goodbye sweaty mess, hello sexy IKEA primate. You raise your armpits to the late night breeze and feel alive again. As your sweat dries, you decide to head for greener pastures and spend the night pounding shots at 1020. You end the night in a McBain shower with a historically inaccurate gladiator who smells like candy-corn and may or may not have a name that sounds like “Pat.” All in all, a pretty great Halloween.
FOLLOW THE SEXY PIRATE: Okay. So you’re feeling a little bit like an asshole right now. But that’s only because you’re being an asshole right now. I mean, honestly? You’re not going to help your vomiting friend? You take a few shots for your conscience (because OH MY GOD PRIORITIES) and follow your sexy pirate outside. The street is weirdly quiet… come to think of it, it might be too quiet… “Sexy pirate?” you call into the night, because you have no idea what their name actually is. The lights flicker and you hear what sounds like an undead moan. What was that noise? What the hell is going on?? Looks like you’ve stumbled upon some supernatural shit, amigo. Nobody hears your screams–your friend is too busy vomiting in the sink. Karma is a bitch.
GO HOME: “Sorry, man,” you say, subconsciously taking a step backwards. You congratulate yourself for following mom’s advice about not talking to strangers. Even if they’re dressed like a Dothraki warlord. Actually, especially if they’re dressed like a Dothraki warlord. You hop on an uptown train and, as you take a seat, everyone moves to a different car. Man, you really reek. Just as you’re settling into your new identity as “subway crazy person,” the doors slide open and in walks a person dressed as a banana. But not just any banana. Oh no, this is the banana you’ve been crushing on since the second day of freshman year. And damn are they owning that banana costume. You make a lame joke about how together you could make a “bananumpkin” that really should not be repeated. One thing leads to another and you spend the rest of your Halloween hooking up with a banana that doesn’t seem to care how much you smell. Congratulations, you sexy pumpkin, you.
HELP YOUR FRIEND: You give your friend a tipsy-ish pat on the back and spend the rest of the party in the bathroom. You wonder what the sexy pirate is doing, but damn are you a good friend. You treat yourself to a slice of Koronets (because nothing gives you an appetite like watching someone vomit all night) and go to bed. No, you didn’t get to sloppily hook-up with a pirate. But yay for being a decent human and a good friend, amirite?
EXPLORE THE STACKS: You set down your pile of books and approach the green haze. Fuck your paper–Ghostbusters is your favorite movie and no way are you missing out on this opportunity. You try the handle and the door swings open. You gasp–the stacks are completely filled with green smoke. And do you hear… voices? Oops, maybe investigating the GREEN HAZE OOZING FROM THE STACKS was not such a great idea. It’s like you’ve never even seen a horror movie. You turn around and try to get the hell out of there, but the door is locked. Shit, shit, shit! Ghostbusters didn’t prepare you properly for this! Your last thought before you pass out is how you wish you had stayed far away from Butler on Halloween.