Last night was Halloween. I hadn't really planned on doing anything, since I don't know anybody and I wasn't about to walk around in a costume by myself. But I saw on the news that there were supposed to be big parties in the Civic Center and the Castro. Something like 500,000 people expected. So I decided to go for a walk down to the Civic Center, because it's only about 1/2 mile from my apt. and wouldn't be as crazy and the Castro. But I got there, and it was all fenced off, there was a big line to get in and you had to pay. Even the enticement of a local band encouraging the young people to "Keep on rocking in the free world" was not enough to get me to pay to go to a city-sponsored Halloween bash. So I ended up on Market Street in the middle of a big crowd, which I figured had to be going somewhere, so I followed it. I realized after about 20 minutes that we were all going to the Castro, which is about a 3-4 mile walk from where I live. But by the time I realized this, I was at the point of no return. I figured, I've never been to Mardi Gras, and this sounded similar, except with gay men prancing around in costumes instead of bare breasts. As it turned out, I got to see both breasts and gay men in silly costumes. On the way I told a Japanese man how to say "take a picture" in Spanish. Finally the crowds started to clot up. I kept walking. The most popular costumes for women seemed to be angel, devil, maiden or princess, cat, and something-with-sequins-covering-as-little-flesh-as-possible. Men either dressed as pimps or undead type looking people. Lots of men in drag. I didn't see any presidential candidates. There was one Jesus. Disappointingly, there were no Superstars of the WWF or WCW. I started to feel very conspicuous in my jeans and sweatshirt.
I ended up on the eponymous Castro Street. The intersection of Market and Castro is midway up a hill, so I could look down the street and see that it was packed solid with people. Through know fault of my own, I was propelled down the street. Once I was in the flow, I basically lost the ability to control my direction. I just tried to point myself the way I wanted to go and hoped someone would push me that way. Half way down, progress became nearly impossible because people had stopped to look up at a fire escape where the Superfriends had gathered. Superman did a little dance before making out with Aquaman. Wonderwoman tied up Spiderman with her lariat and spanked him. I had to pee really bad, and I saw some portalets, so I aimed myself in that direction and covered the 25 yards in about 20 minutes. While I was waiting in line, I young lady of about 18 in a stripper cowgirl outfit used me to balance herself while she bent over and her similarly attired friend spanked her with a cat-o-nine-tails and then kissed the owie to make it better.
After relieving myself, I stood on the sidewalk preparing myself to plunge back into the river of humanity, a gentleman dressed as a jester approached me and said "hey there pretty boy! You lookin for somebody?" I said no, I was just here to see the sights. He said, while getting his thigh much closer to my genitals than I was comfortable with "Well, that's too bad, because I'd like to rumper dumper bumper doo with you." I politely declined the invitation and waded back into the crowd.
It was no better than before. There actually might have been more pushing this time, because there seemed to be more people trying to come than go. Several times I was actually lifted off the ground by the crush and transported wedged between several people and dropped in a new location. I could have probably groped many breasts with impugnity if I had been so inclined. I finally made it to Market St. where the crowd thinned at least to the point where I could expand my lungs and fill them with the marijauna smoke floating around. Some young men had the idea to climb on top of some portolets to get a bird's eye view of the proceeding. One of them discovered the portolets tops were flexible and he started using it as a trampoline. Luckily, the person inside the portolet sensed the inevitable before the guy on top, and got out just before Mr. Bouncy-bounce went crashed through the roof and into the toilet. The likelihood of landing in excrement filled water did not deter others from climbing up and installing sunroofs on the remaining portolets.
I walked up and down the street for awhile, crunching broken beer bottles under my shoes. I noticed a disturbingly large presence of what in some parts we call "jailbait" walking around at midnight on a Tuesday wearing entirely inappropriate costumes. On one corner was a bar with a balcony overlooking the street. A bunch of guys were standing on the street yelling at some woman to "Show us your tits." so I stopped because it seemed like the cool thing to do. I moved on after a couple minutes because it seemed all the young men�s efforts were for naught. But a loud cheer that erupted shortly after I walked away could only mean that in my hastiness I had missed a rare opportunity to see the naked breasts of a drunk girl. My legs were hurting so I decided it was time to start walking home. I saw a guy call a girl a bitch for not showing him her bosum, the girl retaliate by bitch slapping the guy, and the guy have to be restrained by his friends from punching a girl.
So that was pretty much my Halloween.