I was so excited when my evening class’s instructor said we should leave early. We got out at seven. I got home at eight (ignore that time stamped above, it’s 8:21, not 7:21). “But, Courtney,” you ask, “doesn’t it usually take you about twenty minutes to get home from school?”
Why, yes it does, dear reader.
But tonight Meridian Street – which I now take home rather than Penn or Washington because of the creepy goings-on at night – was backed up due to all the people stopping in the middle of the street to let their kids out at the “nice houses” for trick-or-treating.
In this area the times set for collecting candy (by whom and for what reason, exactly, I don’t know) were 5pm to 7pm. Of course, no one used to go out before it got dark when I was a kid. And, of course, no one paid attention tonight to the set times and proceeded to drive their children up and down Meridian Street in flocks to collect their sugary snacks.
I was livid by the time I got home. It didn’t help that I got my midterm back from my literacy instructor and I got less than an A; something I have never done in an English class before. If it wasn’t someone slamming on their brakes in front of me because they saw a “fancy” house, putting on their flashers and unloading a gaggle of seven-year olds, it was the idiots behind me trying to pass between me and the aforementioned brake-slammers. Charlie didn’t get a nap because the dogs were going crazy. He already left for work and will be home in about 12 hours if he’s lucky, thanks to inventory at the end of the month at the bar. It wasn’t because we had a lot of trick-or-treaters that he didn’t get a nap. Oh, no, our house isn’t nice enough, apparently. It was due to all the kids who passed by our house, but screamed at the top of their lungs for no apparent reason. Charlie said he sat with the door open for two hours and only a few children came to our door. The really big houses have good candy, kids, not those crappy duplexes. Just pass them by.
Now I know why we never got trick-or-treaters when we lived on “the other side of College Avenue;” all our former neighbors drive their children around for sweets. They don’t stick around their own neighborhoods. A few years ago the only knock on our door came at 10:30 at night. It was two fifteen-year old kids. I told them I didn’t have any candy and apologized. The next morning I found our two pathetic little pumpkins had been smashed to bits and our outdoor candles broken in half, littering the yard.
A few bad apples always manage to spoil it for the bunch. Only in this case I didn’t see any “good apples.” Just the ones with razor blades in them.
Don’t be to demoralized! I live in a 70’s ranch house, surrounded by other 70’s ranch houses, and I got a ton of kids. There are still some good trick-or-treaters out there (and good parents). one of our neighbors had a apple cider stand for kids and a jell-o shot area for adults. The other neighbor was running after kids with a chainsaw. It was great!