Oh, Halloween! It truly is the most wonderful time of the year. Witches and zombies and ghosts; Pumpkin carving and apple bobbing and candy;The sense of emboldened anonymity inspired by being dressed up in a costume that almost inevitably leads to a Halloween hookup followed by an early morning walk of shame sporting ripped fishnets and some kind of animal ears. .. I love it all. I always have.
To me, Hawaii is the ideal place to be when celebrating the most fun of all fun holidays. People here really get into the spirit and there are countless creepy, costumed attractions happening all month. My personal favorites are The Haunted Plantation (AHHH!), The Hallaballoo Block Party, and, of course, the main attraction– the cluster fuck of drunken costumed debauchery that is the Waikiki strip on Halloween night. This is where my story begins. And it’s a good one.
On Halloween night 2012, I was feeling wonderful. I was decked out in my amazingly hot Gangster Girl outfit that I had purchased, as I have all of my Halloween costumes since I moved to Oahu, at Sensually Yours. In my pinstriped corset, matching fedora, knee highs, and fuck me pumps, I felt like the hottest thing walking down Kalakaua Ave. The generous libations provided at the hotel party before venturing out into the streets might have inhibited these feelings a bit also. But regardless– I looked good!
My night really began to get interesting, as so many others had in the past, at Mad Dogs (RIP). The dance floor was a plethora of crazy costumes. There was Miley Cyrus grinding on Fred Flintstone and the Evil Queen taking shots with a Ghost Buster, but what immediately caught my eye was four college bros dressed up as the Golden Girls. There is no denying that Bea Arthur was a very hansom woman, and I was immediately drawn to the wasted, 6’2, 21-year-old rocking Dorothy’s signature grey curls.
Feeling emboldened by our contrasting hotness levels (i.e me decked out in sexy gangster attire and him head to toe in geriatric thrift store finds), I made the approach.
Kyle aka Dorothy and his gaggle of Golden Girls ended up joining my friends and I as we traversed the crazy, crowded, costumed streets of Waikiki, popping in and out of bars and ABC Stores before ending up on Queen’s beach with a bottle of vodka and a very clear knowledge of where this night was leading.
We’d come to the point in the evening where it was time to ditch my friends (a Sexy Sailor, Sexy Mouse, and Sexy Ninja, respectively)
When I came up for air after a particularly heated make-out session with Kyle/Dorothy to tell my friends that I was thinking it was about time for me to take off, I found that they had come to this conclusion before I had. His seemed to have had the same idea. We were completely alone and neither one of us had even noticed. It’s such a crazy feeling realizing you were so absorbed in another person that you became completely unaware of your surroundings. And ok, fine, it was 3am and we’d both been drinking heavily for upwards of 7 hours, but still, it’s a nice thought.
We brushed the sand off of our now a little worse for wear costumes, and headed up to the road to grab a cab back to his place.
The cab ride to his place in Pearl City was long, and we talked the whole time. He filled me in on himself and his life. He was originally from South Carolina but moved to Hawaii when he was 16 with his mom and little sister after his parents’ divorce. He was a junior at Hawaii Pacific University where he was majoring in Biology with hopes of going on to med school. He had a French Bulldog named “Shelby” who he liked to command to “drink her juice” whenever he fed her. He seemed awesome, and funny, and open. He got the same obscure pop culture references as me. He was Southern, for fuck sake! I started to think that maybe this wouldn’t just be some Halloween hookup. Maybe there would actually be breakfast on November 1st and a real date on the 2nd.
His house was nice. Lots of space and tastefully decorated. The kitchen and the bathroom were spotlessly clean, which, when walking into a house that one assumes is occupied by several college age males, is a miracle.
We had a few more drinks in the kitchen and by this point I was blind with booze and hormones and was ready for the main event. We stumbled up the stairs to his room, sloppily kissing and discarding various costume pieces on the way. That is until he got to where he was about to yank off the wig. “No!” I whispered. “Leave it on!”. He cackled and called me a freak, but he complied.
We were both much, much drunker than we realized. We fooled around for about 20 minutes before he promptly passed out and honestly, I can’t even remember if we sealed the deal or not. I got up in search of a bathroom and stumbled into the first door I could find. Thankfully, that did, in fact, turn out to be a bathroom.
Here’s where things get awful.
I opened the bathroom door back into the bedroom and saw Kyle with his wig still on completely passed out under the covers. I needed water and Advil and clothes, but mostly I just needed to sleep, so I climbed in next to him. I was on my way to pretty promptly passing out when I heard a decidedly female voice from next to me proclaim, “What the actual hell?”.
Kyle had revealed so much to me during our long, heartfelt Taxi Cab Confidential conversation. He had, however, forgotten to mention that he still lived with his mother.
The bathroom I found adjoined to her bedroom and had a hallway entrance. I hadn’t even realized that I hadn’t exited the way I’d entered.
I rolled over to be met with the very confused eyes of a woman that, now that I was so up close and personal with, I could tell had short brown curls, not gray.
“Um, hi,” was the only lame thing my wasted brain could think to say.
“Are you a friend of Kyle’s?” She asked. She was being remarkable calm for someone who just had a practically naked stranger climb into bed with her at 5am.
“Yeah, I think, I mean.. this isn’t.. I went to the wrong room.” She actually laughed at that, and directed me down the hall and to the left.
I made my way back to Kyle’s room with my cheeks on fire. I was wide awake and suddenly shockingly sober and there was no way in hell I was going to risk a few hours of sleep with the possibility of running into his mom in the kitchen later that morning.
I re-dressed myself in my sexy gangster costume feeling significantly less sexy than I had at the beginning of the night. I grabbed my shoes and phone and slunk out of the house to call a taxi.
I never heard from Kyle again. I’m not even sure we exchanged numbers. I’ve thought a million times over about how the conversation with his mother must have gone the next morning and now, with time and distance, I kind of wish I’d stuck around for it just to have a better ending to this story.
Well, it’s that time of year again. I’m heading down to Sensually Yours tonight to get my costumes for Hallaballoo and Halloween night in Waikiki. I don’t know how I’m going to top my Golden Girls Halloween Hook-up extraordinaire, but God knows I’ll be dressed for the challenge.