Halloween is my day off. When you’ve spent a lifetime wearing outlandish outfits on a regular basis, there’s no big thrill in doing it when everyone is trying to do the same. Let the amateurs have their hour, I say. (Don a cape at Price Chopper on a Tuesday afternoon in September then come talk to me.) That said, I once enjoyed this quasi-holiday as much as the next kid, and there were a number of notable costumes I wore that I recall to this very day.
As a younger child, I was very much into animals. Not in any twisted or sick bestiality type of way, but in a pure, innocent, adoring manner. I was a beaver one year (go ahead and make the joke, I’ll wait), a skunk another, and even a cheetah (probably my favorite, as it meant I got to wear a suit made entirely of leopard print).
As I got older, I grew out of the animal phase and into something, well, older. I was an old man one year (something I could do without much make-up today), and a devil the next (even less of a stretch). After that run, I was old enough to not care so much, and when I had to march in Halloween parades as part of the band, it lost all appeal, so I’d go to a stand-by cape and hat and call it a night. (Still my M.O. if I need to do anything on this evening.)
Today, I’m going to let the rest of you take center stage and shine with your elaborate get-ups, sexy/slutty/skin-baring strip-downs, and witty sight-gag ensembles. I’ll sit back and watch, enjoying the spectacle from afar. (Besides, I’ve got badder fish to fry and other outfits to plan for evenings far more important than tonight.)
