When I lived in Brantford with my father, we occupied a huge apartment in a restored mansion that overlooked the rail yard. The original builder owned the tracks from Brantford to Hamilton and I guess he wanted to wake every day to oversee his empire every day. The massive house was surrounded by light industrial warehouses and post war-bungalows. It stood out. Especially on Halloween.
Since it was such a unique residence, all the occupants were intertwined with each others business, like a Norman Bates like 28 Barbary Lane, so when it was announced that the boozy upstairs neighbours were going to have a party and that costumes were mandatory, Dad and I pondered this for a few days.
One night shopping, Dad sees a rack of kids onsies costumes, complete with the thin plastic masks. Much like these, over on Plaid Stallions. He grabs a couple and thrusts them at me.
“Here’s our costumes!”
“They’re a bit… small.”
“That’s the fun!”
I shrug and return the Spiderman jumpsuit for something a little more gay: Wonder Woman. Dad chooses Captain America.
The night of the party, we’re forced to strip down to Y-fronts for the sake of squeezing into these sausage skins. As we hit the third stair to go up to the apartment where the party is being held, both our suits split from knee to armpit along the outer seams. Half way up, the ties for the back pop off. And so it goes. By the time we reach the top of the stairs, we’re basically hobo Superheroes with sweaty masks.
We’re two nearly naked guys in infantile costumes. We were the life of the party.
2 thoughts on “Formative Pop – Halloween Story #2”
You have the coolest dad on the planet, lucky boy.
I did return to the party in a blue housecoat, then i was able to flash the other guests, not that they noticed.