Every year I stand by and watch in amazement as department stores roll out smoke-spurting displays of missing appendages, shrunken heads and plastic axes covered in blood. January through September, the world is generally uncomfortable with the notion of horror, pain or dismemberment, but October rolls around and suddenly little old ladies are putting headstones in their front yards and fake skulls in their bay windows!
As adult, I’ve always been a happy bystander to all the Halloween dress up stuff. I’ve been a punk rocker, greaser and nerd in real life, so why make an event out of it once a year? But being the new guy in town, everyone innocently asks what I’m going to be for Halloween.
Each time, I shrug my shoulders and smile. And the more I think about it, the more I come to the same, somewhat depressing conclusion.
This year, I don’t have to dress up as anything because every morning I wake up and play a Kansas City guy. With a Kansas City job. And a Kansas City loft. I’m sure I’ll grow into this costume eventually, but right now it fits weird and smells funny.
Just like dressing up, relocating has hidden fairly large chunks of our identities. And just like trick or treating, we’re looking for treats, but were not really sure which neighborhood to hit.
Happy Friday you all. No matter what you pretend to be this weekend, I hope you’re comfortable with the person you wake up to on Monday.