F3

Tess Allen

Stumble Upon

del.icio.us

Digg

Facebook

Print

Email

2 Comment(s)

Every year, I tell myself it will be the last time.

I chuckle in feigned superiority at those who insist on continuing with the tradition well past their early teens. I mentally line up an array of parties to attend, a seance or two to crash, an evening porch-side doling out Snickers and Pop-Rocks to little Spidermans and Hannah Montanas.

I make sure I am not once again drawn to that ridiculous, childish custom carried out by most aged 6-13.

And yet, once again this year, I found myself trekking through the bitter autumn weather decked out in another last-second costume with an old pillow-case in my grasp, once again questioning why I am so adamant on ending this marvellous tradition each year.

To be perfectly honest, I've been trying to convince myself it will be my last year trick-or-treating since I was about 13, (since it is, after all, universally known that you are officially "grown-up" at 13). This is the age when most kids start to think they're too cool for trick-or-treating. It becomes baby-stuff, a childish tradition no self-respecting tween would be caught in her sports-bra doing.

Instead, Halloween becomes a night of partying and spooky ghost-summoning, (for the more adventurous tween). Despite this conversion, I remain convinced that the majority of them would rather be gathering candy out on the streets.

This is simply because trick-or-treating is a very appealing activity on so many levels. All a kid has to do to in order to get enough candy to last him through the year is pop on a pair of devil-horns, secure a pillow-case, and go door-to-door chanting that age-old expression. It's slack work, and one can get all the candy one wants by doing pretty much absolutely nothing.

This goes hand-in-hand with the fact that everyone, regardless of gender or age, enjoys a little dress-up every now and again. There's nothing more charming than getting decked-out in something out-of-the-ordinary.

For one night of the year, you can be anything you want without getting weird and/or dirty looks from passers-by! Let me tell you, this past Saturday I saw a Buzz Lightyear, a toilet, and even a Barack Obama, and there was nothing but praise in my eyes.

What better way to showcase your talent for scouting out amazing costumes than by strutting your stuff through the streets? You truly can't go wrong.

I guess trick-or-treating is a turn-off for some in the party-category, as most strangers would be discouraged from handing out candy to sexy nurses, cops, and even Eves, (think Adam. And yes, I'm being serious). Apparently, anything can become sexy these days if you add a pair of fishnets to it, (after all these years, "sexy cat" costumes still creep me out a bit). Every year, I'm always a tad tempted to test this theory out by adding some fishnets and heels to an Abe Lincoln costume.

I guess, as a teenager, I'm subconsciously discouraged to go trick-or-treating in general by most everyone. I came to this realization as I was standing on my porch this past Saturday awaiting my drive. Taking one look at my bedazzled gown and tiara, a passer-by struck up a conversation about the goings-on of most teenagers on Halloween night. He implied several times that I was going to a party that night, never once assuming I would instead be spending my evening in the fashion of most seven-year-olds. Whether out of embarrassment or a brief sense that I was a lot cooler than I actually was, I did not correct him. As my drive pulled up, he bid me a happy Halloween and I assured him that it would be.

As it turns out, I was right. But my Halloween was not made awesome by a rowdy party filled with fish-netted panda bears and the like. Instead, I spent the evening bracing the hurricane-like winds with my friends, storing up on candy along with an inhuman quantity of regular chips.

By the end of the evening, I was beat, but I had sure experienced a great night. I guess it's true that there's a little kid in all of us. I guess mine's just a little more reluctant to let go.

* Tess Allen is a Grade 11 student at Moncton High School.