Why I Don't Dress Up for Halloween

In the early '90s, for two consecutive years, my parents choreographed the MOST AMAZING Halloween parties of all time ever in the history of the world and of all time.

For weeks leading up to Halloween, my brother, sister, and I all contributed to the preparations, but on the day of the event we participated in the fun along with a huge group of our friends. Here's what it was like to be invited to the Reynolds family Halloween party.

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The littler kids -- my friends -- started arriving just after sunset, entering the two-car garage to find it completely transformed by decorations that divided the space into quadrants. We had a section for bobbing for apples (which were actually strung from rafters so nobody soaked their head in the 45-degree weather), an area where the gypsy (my sister) read fortunes, a mummy-wrapping space, snacks. That's all fine and good. Anyone could have parents who peel grapes in an attempt to make you think they're zombie eyeballs.

But when Egor, the limping, disfigured servant (my dad) called the names of a few friends, we eagerly lined up at the garage door to take a walk through the haunted yard. He gave us the preamble, describing the horrible deaths which had occurred on the premises and preparing us to meet the lingering souls.

Favoring his bad leg, Egor hunched along toward the back left corner of the yard where he pointed out a spooky graveyard, complete with headstones and GASP! THE COFFIN OPENED UP, revealing an undead neighbor boy with claws for hands who attempted to creep toward us.

Egor corralled us toward the opposite corner of the yard where a mowed path twisted into the dark recesses of a wooded area. Cackling with delight, he encouraged one of the girls to lead the group around a blind corner and EEEEK! A witch with green skin and a peaked cap leapt out from among the brambles, grasping at our clothes and laughing a mad hysterical laugh.

After recovering his rightful place at the front of the group, Egor shepherded us along the path. Our group slowly approached a small house, ablaze with fire, where gory disfigured people fell from the windows, screaming as the descended toward the ground.

At wits' end, my friends and I finally followed Egor out to the clearing of the yard, thankful to have the safety of the garage within sight once again when ZABLAM! A vampire fell foward from an upright casket cackling and threatening to suck our blood... bla ahh ahh.

As recently as my 10-year high school reunion, a childhood friend still asked if 1) I remembered these parties, and 2) if my parent were still throwing these parties. I do, and they're not... since they've been divorced for about 18 years.

Now, when my workplace holds an annual costume contest, I have to wonder if my dress-up reticence stems from having had such an exceptionally good childhood experience with Halloween.

I peaked early.