Halloween 2010

 

The fall's first rainstorm ended in time for the weekend. With the clouds gone, the view of the stars reminds you how far you are from any major city. It's about midnight. The air smells like espresso and marijuana and fresh bread. Storefronts, some active, some darkened, are accented with synthetic cobwebs and glowing pumpkins. Main Street runs through the center of town, and tonight traffic is heavy. Most of the vehicles have open windows, and they're blasting rap, reggae, rock, and mariachi so that a haze of sub-bass and blended melodies permeates the atmosphere. Every thirtieth car has the word “POLICE” or “SHERIFF” on its sides in large bold letters. These do not play music and their windows are always closed. A man who is waiting at a light in his SUV would like to sell you some Coricidin. Homeless people with flutes and acoustic guitars sport long dreadlocks and ragged clothing in earthy shades, and they recline in small groups along the outside walls of all the sophisticated shops and restaurants. Beyond the plate glass, the autumnal tourists feed on overpriced food. Everyone in the city seems uncontrollably happy tonight. The majority of the people out on the sidewalk with you are not wearing conventional clothing. There are witches, superheroes, video game characters, vampires, ninjas. In the center of downtown Ashland a dense crowd of these beings grows and swells as the night progresses. Hundreds of giddy drunken people in masks, gathered on and around a large island that separates a couple of streets, near the park. Across Main Street, dubstep explodes from a dark doorway obstructed by a bouncer. It blends with the fifty other tracks from the passing cars. Someone offers you a pipe. Someone offers you a piece of chocolate candy with caramel filling. A dozen police officers patrol the edges of the crowd. Most of them are real. The park is mostly unlit, but it's well-populated tonight. You walk inside, and from the darkness around you comes laughter and indistinct voices. Wind flows through leaves, and you hear water falling into the duck pond behind you. Two police officers pass you on the pathway, walking back toward the entrance of the park. Music and happy screams drift from the main crowd in the street. A werewolf offers you a hip flask. Birds call out in the trees from time to time. Costumed humanoids gather on the bridges and in the deep shadows on the banks of the creek. The air is cool and comfortable, and the stars are bright and distinct as you look up at them through the branches, and you have German at 9:00 AM tomorrow but you can probably disregard that fact for a few more hours because this is kind of fun.

 

 

11/02/10