Sat Oct 29
Points North and South
The thing about Monday Halloweens is they create four nights of celebration—the holiday stretches into a holilongweekend. We're in Beacon Hill at a party with potentially the hottest theme anywhere: Dr. Seuss's Nightmares. Our hosts (dressed as Things One and Two) take their decorating seriously—the house isn't lacking in cobwebs, black-light posters, or other scareaphernalia. DJ Victor, stunning in a glowing green minidress, hands out snack cakes to everyone—"Would you like a big black Ding Dong?"—before spinning well into the morning hours. Impressively, the party boasts an eight-foot-tall Evil Cat in the Hat statue, stabbing the book's moralizing fish with an umbrella.
We leave, regretfully—there are too many parties to keep to just one. Posthaste, we're in the University District, at a kegger that sprawls across three apartments. ("This place is run by a slumlord, so go where you want and do, you know, whatever.") The costumes are lower key—a lot of these students, casual in their everyday lives, make a disguise out of a suit or a dress with mega-cleavage. The exception: a man in punk clothing and, bless him, a large banana suit who calls himself "The Ruckus Banana." In the stairwell, two women are making out, taunting a grim reaper sitting glumly on the stairs. "Take that, Mr. Skeleton Face," the woman dressed as a pirate giggles, and, really—drunkenly tongue wrestling to spite Death itself—what could be a better metaphor for Halloween?
* Ugandan tribal dialect, uttered by a weary Plus One, meaning, "We go faster! Faster!"
Want The Stranger to "get some fuckin RAWK on with the Ruckus Banana!" at your house party? E-mail the date, place, time, and party details to firstname.lastname@example.org.