Wasted Words: Was it a Happy Halloween?

If I have grasped the concept at all Halloween is celebrated 31 of October. As I understand it, it is during that day the celebration takes place. That is the tradition. Tradition and I seldom go hand in hand.

I started off Wednesday by decorating – ghosts haunting across the walls, spider web draped strategically, witches and bats soaring above, a pumpkin on the doorstep. Not to forget the ghastly apparition hovering in the hallway, emitting eerie cries if disturbed.

Then came Thursday (the day before Halloween) and the party that was thrown by the English Department at the University. As there was a price to be won for best costume I decided to dress up. And so, I went as a mime. And, I might add, I was probably the most terrible mime in history (and oh, a mime is such a terrible thing to waste!). I could not keep my mouth closed; I conversed nearly the entire evening. Which wasn’t a great mystery, in a way, as I do tend to speak plenty and as there was hardly anyone there.

The amount of attendees peaked at 12.15 with approximately twenty individuals, each and everyone quite likely bored out of their minds questioning what they were doing there – maybe reflecting on that, well, if nothing else the liquor is cheep. And should I go? Or should I stay since I’d be just as bored at home? Boozeless, at that.

At 1 am most had given up.

Me I had spent the evening talking to two students I never before had met who were attending the course succeeding mine. I did also speak with two teachers, just briefly with one of them and for quite some time with the other.

Anyhow, as it were, I decided to head home just a few minutes past one ‘o clock. I was standing by the bar announcing my leave to the student I had been talking to who had not yet left. As I stood there the teacher from before, who had only held one of our lectures and who had not spoke more than twenty or thirty word to me all night, suddenly turned to me and asked a question.

Who asks a mime a question?

And though such a simple question it was met with silence.

“Are you happy?”

Phonemes wobbled on the tip of my tongue but they earthquaked into a pile of nonsensical sounds, maybe of indignation – how dare he ask such a thing! Everyone knows you cease to be happy if you have to think about it! – maybe of confusion. It’s hard to tell in retrospective. In any case I couldn’t seem to find a satisfying answer. A shrug of the shoulder and a mumbled “I guess” had to do – and I was out.

The rain still fell heavy from the sky as I walked to the bus. As it would turn out I missed that bus with four or so minutes. Surely there would come another one. The one I aimed for was only the second to last departure. But, of course, (what is it with me and my bad luck with buses?) it’s only the second to last departure on Fridays and weekends. Not Thursdays. So there I was – the rain pouring down, the wind hollowing – with no way of getting home.

This is where the teacher from before shows up. He had finally decided to head home and finds me there, trying to figure out what to do. After asking if I was okay (which, in that case, was a rhetorical question, much since he muttered the answer to himself, “That’s right, you don’t know what you are, do you.”) and noting that, no, there were indeed no more busses I could take he offered me the foldable spare-bed in the room occupied with his six-year-old's, and youngest child, toys. Not having many options I took it. (Though, had I had any reason not to trust him I had spent the night on a bench somewhere, lying through my teeth claiming I would be fine.)

And that is how I ended up at one of my teachers houses, on a foldable spare-bed, freaking his family out in the morning and eating tasty toasts before I finally could head home. Home to prepare for Halloween.

But, and however!, I decided to stay at my parents’ house on Halloween instead of going out. The memories of last night’s escapades were still fresh in my mind and thus I spent Halloween watching bad horror movies with my folks and one of my younger brothers.

The next day though I went to a club that had a Halloween theme. I went alone but happened to bump into acquaintances from high school. (Two out of four did not recognize me, which greatly amused me, I must confess.)

This time nothing out of the ordinary happened – there was drinking, there was dancing, there was talking and then there was closing time. It was fun though.

On Saturday I took down the paper ghosts from the walls, picked down the factory-made spider-web, untied the paper silhouette witches and bats hanging about and disposed the pumpkin. And I also boxed up the light and sound sensitive toy ghost in the hall.

It was a good Halloween and in many ways memorable. But though I had spent the entire night before it chattering away, trading points of view (and a few scraps of wisdom?) it was only that one sentence that carried a significant meaning, the only sentence that, when the memory is faded, the night more or less forgotten, will remain.

Is still can’t stop wondering.

Are you happy?

And of course I have some photos: