Halloween makes people uncomfortable. Some can’t handle all the costumes, all the candy, all the frat parties named with terrible rhymes. But others get into it. Like really into it. Especially at Penn. For some reason Halloweekend becomes a Fling–like extravaganza… with fewer clothes and even less dignity. The party starts on Wednesday and ends on Tuesday. It’s quite the spectacle, one we all try to take advantage of in one way or another. A few of my friends live in a house on Beige Block with a large second floor porch, overlooking 41st Street. Perfect for people watching. This comes in handy at times like NSO, Fling and of course Halloween. From our mini tower in the sky, we heckle unknowing party–goers. It’s even better to perch up there starting at 9 a.m. the morning(s) after. Halloween walks of shame are not urban legends; they're one of the best sources of entertainment. This probably sounds terrible, that I’ve spent years scouting out the best way to poke fun at people just trying to enjoy a holiday. Well it comes from a place of love. I love Halloween. I love dressing up (preferably in something covered entirely in sequins). I love candy. I love frat par — okay you got me there; I don’t love frat parties with punny names. But everything else rocks. It’s a time to admire your peers’ creativity. Sophomore year our female ego of the week (page 4) was Picasso’s blue period. She taped blue tampons to her body. Come on. That’s awesome. And yes, it’s a time to laugh at girls trotting home in cat ears and stilettos at 9 a.m., with furry tails between their legs. So if you hate Halloween (attention, page 3), look at your choices. Look at your lives. And if you see a rowdy bunch on a green porch pointing at your ridiculous costume: suck it up. You probably deserve it.
Tis the witching hour,
