trick? or treat?

So I volunteered for this Halloween street festival last night called "Hilloween." A realtor whose office is next door to the restaurant I work at on weekends puts it on every year, and there's a hay ride and balloon animals and face painting for the kids, and burgers and beer for the adults. I was selected to be a face painter (for God knows what reason because I can barely draw a stick figure) and I had to dress up in my fairy costume.

It is the fairy costume part that should earn me a medal. I hadn't really put much thought into how I was going to get to Hilloween, that is, until I was in my fairy costume, wings, wand, knee-high boots, face glitter and everything, looking at myself in the mirror when I was like "Am I seriously going walk down H Street and wait for the bus like this?" (H Street is supposed to be an "up and coming" neighborhood. I once told this to somebody, and that person responded by saying it was more coming than up. I have to agree with that statement.) I figured I had to, because how was I going to volunteer for something and then not show? So, ladies and gentlemen, I ponied up and waited for the bus on H Street dressed as a fairy. It was the most uncomfortable experience in my life. This is my favorite exchange that I had on the street:

Man: Damn, you lookin good.
Me: It's Halloween.
Man: You the trick or the treat?

At this point, I had to remind myself that I was doin' it for the kids, doin' it for the kids.

And it was well worth it. Face painting was so fun, although I was sooooo bad at it. My pumpkins looked more like squash, and my spiders looked like flies. I felt kinda guilty about that, remembering a time when I was like ten and I got my face painted and it looked like shit and I was so upset. However, if any of the kids last night were pissed about my unskilled designs, they didn't show it. On the other hand, I could tell some of the parents were expecting me to bust out with some skills and were sorely disappointed. One even told me "I guess you get what you pay for." (The face painting was free.)

But the little kids were just so cute in their little costumes, most of them too young to even talk. There was one little girl who couldn't say a single word that I could understand, but she was sure having a whole conversation with me. It was the cutest! And then there were the brain eating zombies, the mermaids, so many princesses!, the pumpkins, the doggies, the kitties, and one Spongebob Square Pants.

All of them were giddy with that Halloween magic that only children experience, and I even got a little high off of their highs. It reminded me of when I was little, when I would get elated at the sight of a Halloween decoration, when a plastic pumpkin filled with Baby Ruths and Sweetarts and Snickers was all I ever needed, when the possibility that my neighborhood was really haunted by ghosts who appeared only on Halloween seemed quite real. I would plan months and months in advance what I was going to be for Halloween, and the costume had to be perfect. It was my goal in life to win a costume contest. That never happened, although I remember in second grade, I won a pumpkin decorating contest. I remember they said my name, and I was so excited that afterwards, I actually looked at myself in the bathroom mirror and told myself "You did it." Hey – it was a school-wide contest and that's a big accomplishment for an 8-year-old.

Anyway, last night I got as close to feeling that magic again as I ever will be. It was the first time I had participated in Halloween festivities since I was a kid, unless of course you count the law school Halloween party last year, which was basically nothing but a beer fest and my costume was The Guess Who's classic ballad "American Woman," which was comprised of a denim skirt, silver platforms, a white t-shirt, a red feather boa, blue eye shadow, and piece of strategically-placed masking tape which said "American Woman." The only magic that was involved that night was law school colleagues magically finding each other attractive after a few drinks.