I’m not a party guy. And by party I mean a gathering of revelers under the guise of a concept for justification to drink and publicly enjoy the side effects of alcohol. Namely, feeling different than we normally feel. Wilder. Crazier. Free from the shackles of real life. I used to drink. And was quite good at it. I would even sometimes go to parties where groups of people would grind against one another, sing silly songs, make fools of themselves, and just be free. That’s what drugs do after all – provide a temporary reprieve from the real world.

Since becoming a parent, I’ve noticed a lot more Halloween parties for adults than there used to be. Or maybe there always were parties like this years ago, but I wasn’t cool enough to be invited to them. To me Halloween was always for children. Whether it was little kids whose parents dressed them in cute pumpkin costumes, or teenagers exploring their own freedom from these same parents – Halloween was always for children. But no more. You can’t scan your Facebook wall on the last Saturday night before October 31 without seeing your peers showcasing their own independence from the real world decked out in something from Scary Mike’s Costume Rentals.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure Halloween parties for adults are barrels of fun. I mean, why else would they be so popular? Only, I assume they’re fun to people who like drinking and revelry in general. Unfortunately I don’t fall into that group. I always liked doing my drugs in private – melting into the environment to gaze upon those who would lift the golden calf upon their shoulders and beg for forgiveness the next morning. This goes for St. Patrick’s Day parties, Fourth of July parties, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Arbor Day parties. I never needed a reason to get sauced. It’s a Tuesday and it’s raining? Drink. No costume necessary.

Anyway, I don’t want to be seen as a party pooper or someone who hates revelry in general just because I have an affliction that doesn’t permit me to consume alcohol. I don’t hate alcohol, or partying. I have just always found it interesting how as we grow up and out of childhood we continue to use All Hallows Eve as a reason to go back to the days when we’d dress up and run through the neighborhood seeking sweets. Only now we do it in sexy cat outfits and Where’s Waldo sweaters as we drink alcohol until we are comfortable pretending to be someone else.

halloween party***




The Lure of the Jungle
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Jim Mitchem

Writer. Father to daughters. Husband. Ad man. Raised by wolves. @jmitchem on twitter. First novel, Minor King, out now.