Halloween

Friday night I had a conversation with Jesus.

He was carrying a light saber and told me about a book he is writing on the Lost theory to end all Lost theories.

He said that people can be classified as either empaths, connectors, enablers or shamans. He said I am a shaman.

My friend, who for the evening had Vulcan ears jutting out of her hair, arrived at the party a little while later. She knew Jesus.

“He’s a little intense,” I whispered.

She held up a hand to silence me.

“I might make out with him later.”

“Jesus,” I replied.

Saturday night there was a much larger affair. By then I had a costume, a 'pharmacist' outfit from Rickie's that got pretty much the same reaction all night long.

"Slutty nurse?"

At a pre-party in someone's Tribeca loft a small cross appeared magically on a digital photo of a friend stirring a cauldron of sangria and dry ice.

Someone I met earlier in the week had mused about what this year’s trend costume would be.

“There’s always one,” he said.

I met and danced with, over the course of the night, Flav O Flav, Grownup Britney Baby and Dead Anna Nicole. There was too much noise to find out what they knew about Lost but we had fun regardless.

Still none of them won the honor of trend costume of the year.

The honor for that went to a group of men, some of whom I met Friday and others Saturday, who came to both parties with boxes around their midsections and rubber, shall we say 'units,' in the boxes.

Dick in the Box. A Saturday Night Live skit from the past year that starred Justin Timberlake and that has, evidently, become a modern piece of classic pop culture.

You just gotta love Halloween.