Lost Spirit

”So, are you loving your new existence?”

A few days ago, that question from my friend Rey hung on my screen for a minute or two while I considered it. In the grand scheme of things, my life has improved in many ways over the last few months. I rarely work late, I have an excellent boss and great coworkers, and I don't fear for the fate of my company. I notice and appreciate these things which affect my stress and state of mind moreso than a better salary or anything like that, because I haven't changed my lifestyle to reflect such improvements. I drive the same car, live in the same house, and socialize with the same friends. Outside of work, my life hasn't changed too much aside from the fact that I've regained a lot more hours for my non-working existence. The scales of time have shifted in my favor, and I love the hours I've regained. The question seemed complex, like the ”Are you happy?” episode of Frasier, but the answer was simple and affirmative all along.

That being said, my existence isn't a perfect one. No one's is. And as much as I like, I do miss things from my past. I miss the specific collection of people that I spent so many hours with for so many years, and I miss a lot of the old events. One event that I looked forward to every year was Halloween. It was the one day of the year that I could wear a costume and fit in. Someone recently asked me if I dressed up when I went to a comic book convention, and was surprised by my answer. It's not that I'm not that big of a geek, because I am, but I'm extremely self-conscious. What might be socially acceptable within a convention center is very different on the train or on the streets of Manhattan. There is and has always been one day that I allow myself to wear a costume, and I fear the path breaking that rule might take me down.

Every year, my old company had a costume contest, decorations, a pumpkin carving contest, and a party. I almost always made a costume. Wolverine. Neo. Mario. Clark Kent. Scarecrow. Year after year I began pondering ideas months in advance, gathering supplies weeks in advance, then assembling everything at the last minute on October 30th. These “costumes” were usually ordinary clothes enhanced by some props, and in many cases I could easily switch to civilian mode. I never entered the contests for some reason, probably because I thought I would lose. In hindsight it was a silly notion since by not entering, I guaranteed I wouldn't win. I think there's a broader life lesson in there somewhere.

Last year something prompted me to enter. I won second prize as Silent Bob. It was fitting, because though I didn't know it at the time, that would be my last Halloween at that company. A year later I found myself in a new place, wondering what the situation would be. Halloween thoughts run on auto pilot, and the gears start turning no matter what. Months ago I sifted through potential ideas. Weeks ago I purchased the two items I didn't already own. Tuesday night at midnight I found myself in the bathroom with tape and a knife performing delicate and dangerous adjustments in a three way mirror. I didn't even know if I would go through with it.

There didn't seem to be any formal announcements or decorations. I checked the company website, found a blurb about free candy, and that was about it. I asked a friend of mine who's been there a few years, and he said he wasn't going to wear his costume, which he'd already worn to a party with his wife the weekend prior. He said at the most, he's seen two or three people dress up.

It was a real dilemma. Would I break tradition or place myself in a ridiculously small minority? Two months in, would I cement myself as the guy who came to work as a certain character? As much fun as my costumes were at my old job, it did bother me that some people still called me “Mario” years after I wore that costume. On the other hand, people have been calling me “Mario” since college, so I probably shouldn't blame that one on a hat and some suspenders.

My friend's advice was to bring the props with me, but not actually put them on until I saw what the environment was. I had two meetings on that day as well, both of which included high level executives. Did I want to gamble on their sense of humor? It probably would have been fine, but I'm too new and too me to have risked it. When I walked down the hall in the morning and saw that the twenty-something internet slacker guys were in their normal attire, I knew I'd made the right call. I was surprised that even the young people didn't get into the spirit of the day. Times change.

I didn't see anyone in costume. There were conflicting sightings of either a gay swordsman or a pirate, but other than a swift turn of a cape or a feather out of the corner of my eye that I may have imagined, I can't confirm what I was told. We did have free candy and decorations in our dining area in the afternoon, and one woman brought in an awesome tombstone cake made by her baker son. Still, it wasn't the same. The spirit of the season was lost.

Driving home, I saw very few trick-or-treaters. On our street, the road was packed because our neighbors were having a party. I rolled slowly through the crowd, almost tapping one child before his parent woke up and pulled him aside. I wore the costume to my own door to greet my folks, took a few photos, then transformed back into a civilian and worse, back into a grown-up. Is this what it is to be an adult, or has the holiday died down? Hardly any kids came to our house, and the larger bags with extra treats labeled by my mom for our neighbor's kids are still sitting on a coffee table in our living room.

Maybe it's just our neighborhood, or with a party across the street the kids had plenty of candy without going door-to-door. I talked to some people at work who spent over $100 on candy anticipating a lot of little visitors. The spirit isn't lost, just subdued in some places. For plenty of people it was still Halloween, but for me it was predominantly Wednesday.

Nevertheless, I'm still thinking of ideas for next year already...