Unavoidable Halloween Glare

There is an October country. 

It’s gone now, having given way to November, which is markedly different, however October is what I’m concerned with for the purposes of this entry. It sneaks up on you, starts with warm, brisk days that are really no different from summer, however upon its conclusion it is undeniably a world removed. A transformative period. 

Picture this, take it all in. Near 5 P.M. and I’m walking down the sidewalk of Lincoln, biding my time until the South Broadway parade begins. I am planning to capture footage, interview attendees, post the interviews online. I was planning to print out some of my science-fiction short stories and hand them out, however at the time my toner cartridge was depleted. There’s always next year, I remind myself. Always another Halloween. 

The leaves are a vivid gold as the sun drops ever lower in the light indigo sky, crunching beneath my cheap tennis shoes as I wind my way casually along the houses. Five feet down from me, one guy exclaims: “Hey, it’s at six! We can still make it! Let’s go!” Followed by murmurs of agreement, the slam of a porch door. 

I had seen the sign around a week earlier during one of my routine walks where I scan street poles for current events. I had no idea Denver conducted any sort of Halloween parade. By the marketing, this is Denver’s only Halloween parade. I was apprehensive, given Denver’s lackluster parade record, but was willing to attend on the basis that it might provide worthwhile video footage. 

Of course, twenty minutes until the action, something took ahold of me. Don’t film it, this voice said. It’s not meant to be filmed. Put your camera away, it’ll be too crowded and loud. Unnecessary, completely unnecessary. You don’t even have those little booklets to hand out, completely defeats the purpose. Just go enjoy yourself. So I did, I deleted the intro I’d made and walked, no regrets, into Broadway fervor. 

That day I had killed time speaking with local artists at a small panel. They were approachable, one Goth artist in particular had interesting sensibilities which I noted. She spoke about her work and prints with a lot of enthusiasm and technical expertise, and I enjoyed the more quirky aspects. Another participant at the event was a Korean artist whose objective appeared to be to bring Cyberpunk to his home country. I took this as a noble endeavor. He was reserved and tactful. 

I spent much of the day before the parade perusing a Star Trek paperback novel, trying my best to immerse myself in the season. I sat around, listened to the droning ambient compositions on my Walkman, losing myself in a long autumnal period of self-reflection and malaise. When it became apparent that the parade was about to begin, I left the panel of artists behind, shook the hand of one bearded gent who promised to contact me about a compelling opportunity, and exited the facility. 

Now here were the leaves, a darkening twilight of South Broadway, all the shops turning their lights on as one like a glittering candelabra, while up and down the street, hundreds of people converged on the curbs and sidewalks- some on cheap plastic folding chairs with aluminum legs, some perched on ashcans and potted plants, others resting casually on the pavement, feet openly in the midst of Denver’s second-most critical commercial vessel. 

The announcement system boomed with all the Halloween hits, Ray Parker to Rockwell, a playlist of action, as down the promenade the first vestiges of parade enthusiasm manifested themselves. I considered the amount of planning parades require, a testament to humanity’s collective potential. Like the pyramids, they are an awe-inspiring sight. 

They are also, of course, one of the oldest forms of entertainment, a progression of folly long before televisions existed, and they are ingrained firmly within American culture, ever since the first Independence Day was guaranteed to be chock-full of confetti and unrestrained celebration. Parades are, in that way, an anachronism for the times we now occupy, required today more than ever. 

During the procession, of cars and bicycles and scooters and floats, my imagination let loose and concocted a kind of narrative to go along with what was happening. Zombies danced, there was a massive and gaudy Egyptian float, one with oozing tentacles, one with smoke emanating out the sides. I considered how much effort it would take to arrange one of those with the city, set it up, test it, arrive at the inception of the parade and march at a snail’s pace 15 blocks or so to the terminus. Gears in the noggin, turning. 

The night was brisk yet comfortable, executed without a hitch, with such atmosphere that I questioned why anyone would stay home, given the free candy and delightful bombast. This was certainly an event worth sauntering down to and back from, one that has embedded itself in me, one I’ll retain.