It’s Halloween and the first time I am actually missing LA. The city might be soul sucking plastic wasteland, but they really know how to celebrate my favorite holiday. It’s a month long affair with the most ridiculous costumes and tons of parties, culminating in the best parade I have ever had the pleasure to take part in. I’ve been stalking my friends on social media all morning, crying internally with a serious case of FOMO. Social Media is evil, but I am glad everyone looks like they’re having so much fun (just kidding. I hate you all).
LA Halloween and I had a rough start however.
Halloween 2012, I’ve only been in LA two months and still haven’t gotten hip to the fact that men here are the worst. So when I met this guy at a Halloween party hosted by a woman in her late 40s and comprised of a bunch of YouTubers, I ignored common sense and agreed to meet him again. (I gave him the benefit of the doubt despite his occupation being a retired semi-professional skateboarder/full time extra).
He invites me to a Halloween concert the following weekend and shows up at my apartment in the same costume. Here we go.
Once I am in his car, I notice two people in the back seat. My date is still outside the car at this point, so I say hi to the two strangers in the back, but they flat out ignore me because they are too busy playfully poking one another. Once my date is in the car, he mentions the two rude strangers people are his fellow extra-coworkers, who I guess had nothing better to do on a Saturday night then to invite themselves to tag along to this concert. They still don’t say hi, much less acknowledge my presence.
As we make our way onto the highway I hear fumbling in the back seat. Regrettably, I choose to glance over my shoulder. They are GOING at it (who are these people??!!). I look at my date, thinking this will be a cute bonding moment and will relieve the intense awkwardness, but he’s staring straight a head, stone faced, with both hands gripping the steering wheel for dear life. As if you could pretend that nothing was happening behind us. Naturally, I start laughing out loud. The fumbling and kissing sounds continue until we get to our destination. Unfortunately, the couple in the back seat don’t have tickets to this concert, and can’t get in without them. I am so torn up that I can’t continue to witness their adolescent fondling. They disappear (it’s impressive how quickly actually), while my date and I head into the venue.
It’s a large warehouse style building. When I first walk through the door all I hear is the weird reverb of what sounds like a didgeridoo and to my left a woman wearing an indian headdress and a fur coat has set up a second hand shop, complete with rugs on the floor and three racks of gaudy clothing. Where am I?
Obviously, I ignore the strangely (perhaps ironically?) dressed sales lady and head straight to the bar. I ask the bartender what mixed drinks he has and am lectured on how they only sell beer here, specifically beer in a can, because that’s how you get the best flavor. WHERE AM I??
That’s when I see where the didgeridoo sound is coming from. A woman, in a belly dancer’s costume with the largest ram horns I have ever seen on top of her head, is dancing around a bunch of SLEEPING people chanting something in a made up language. Let me repeat: a group of 20 people are all lying on top of one another in some fake trance on a bar floor, but somehow are still able to hold onto their gross canned PBR. I have fallen through space and time and found myself at the most hipster halloween party of all time.
I am ignoring my date at this point and just watching the sleeping people as this horned woman dances around them. I am half expecting her to produce a jug of cool aide at any moment. Suddenly all the lights turn off. I am in complete darkness, and I wonder to myself, probably out loud, if this is how it ends. That’s when the main band takes the stage. The venue goes from comatose to seizure inducing instantly, in the best way! The band is fantastic, but I only get to enjoy 5 minutes before my date says it’s time to leave because his friends are bored of making out in a bush, or whatever.
I SHOULD have stayed at the cult-hipster-canned beer-dance hall. The rest of the night was mind numbing “exclusive” clubs and being asked to leave, because the backseat couple got a little too frisky in the stairwell.
I miss your weirdness Los Angeles. Happy Halloween!