Novemberama

Halloween used to actually be scary, mainly because I was too scared to open my mouth and ask for candy whilst trick-or-treating after years of "DON'T TALK TO STRANGERS!" Plus, shy.

Now Halloween is just plain funny. In the afternoon, I rode the subway back to Williamsburg and emerged from the underground station into a throng of babies in costumes. Literally, it was stroller-traffic hell and every pudgy little cutie-on-wheels was in a hilarious outfit. I was agog. I was in cute heaven. At first I thought parents were just picking up their kids from school and I was caught in post-bell traffic, but then I finally asked someone, "Is there some sort of baby parade going on?" Yes. There was a Halloween baby parade happening and I, big baby-less ruiner that I am, was walking against it.

Most babies were dressed in furry outfits (i.e. animals) or otherwise feel-good looks (princess) but one mom pushing a stroller had a baby covered in blood. Like, Halloween fake blood around the mouth. I love the idea of being a zombie but a 2-year-old zombie? There are precious few years that we are that cute in life. Do we want to zombie-fy a 2-year-old?

I'm going to take a stand against fake blood. I've decided that I just really don't like it, baby or adult. There was lots of it at the Halloween parade in Grenwich Village, which is like a giant, outdoor trance rave where everyone's been sprinkled with fake blood and parents have brought their kids to be smushed in the crowd. Plus, lots of college-age girls who like to dress up as "sexy." Why anyone would want to wear an outfit that basically puts their boobs on a shelf and then stand in a mob that is so packed there's literally nowhere to breathe except directly into someone else's face is beyond me.

Madeleine and I decided to cut holes in books and put them on our faces (i.e. our costume was "Facebook," with mine being more specific due to my Obama glasses, becoming "Obama's Facebook page"). People couldn't figure us out, which made for fun interaction and overheard moments.

(Old Man with an extremely perplexed expression, frozen-staring at Madeleine.)
Me: "She's Facebook!"
[No change in Old Man's perplexed expression]
Me: [Louder] "FACEBOOK!"
Old Man: [Still no change, long pause]
Me: "It's a website!"
[Nothing.]
He is probably still standing with his brows furrowed at 7th and 14th.

(Young teenager to his friend while sashaying past Madeleine): "Oh my God, it's a Bible."

Teenagers: "O-ba-moo! O-ba-moo!"
Irritated older man: "It's O-ba-MA, not O-ba-MOO."

A Sarah Palin coming down the stairs at the Bedford station, doing a royal wave: "Don't vote for me on Tuesday! Don't vote for me on Tuesday!"

Appreciative Mom-type to Isaac: "Hey! Mr. Windy Man!" I just like that she added "Mr" like it's the name of a real character.

Isaac got a lot of that last night. Walking around with him was like being with a very funny celebrity. Everybody was asking him for photos and when they did, he would do his windy pose and get huge laughs. This happened on the subway, on the street, in the Village, up in Harlem. Really! And Isaac loved it!

Gangs of smurfs on the subway. Spiderman texting on his Blackberry. Our night ended with a man playing a mouth-organ on the train, wearing a Happy Birthday paper-cone hat. He played songs that ran right into each other, never quite ending before it started on a new, familiar refrain. From Happy Birthday to Miami Sound Machine to Hava Nagila and so on.

This morning, Ricky's (the Halloween shop that had a line down the block at 8 pm last night) was plastered with SALE signs. A few people straggled home in medieval costumes doing a special, once-a-year Halloween edition of the walk of shame. Isaac and I ran around a giant sports field where kids were playing soccer and football and then we got tacos and poked into vintage shops and watched kids make crafts at a Dias de los Muertos celebration in the East Village.

Good night, Halloween. It's November and time for the election. Now that's scary! Boo!