We’re going to a Halloween party tomorrow night. Actually, it’s more of a family birthday party, but the charming host (Hi Sis!) decided that the party’s proximity to Halloween meant that everyone had to come in costume.

I’ve known about this engagement for at least a month, but only today did it finally hit me that I needed a costume. I guess I was living under the assumption that I could get away with being the only asshole there without a costume, but after weighing the pros and cons, I decided that it was better to arrive in a gorilla mask than to have my balls broken all night long for being a spoilsport.

So, we went to one of our local Halloween stores. I’ve been there before, but never during prime time so close to the big day. What I assumed would be an inconvenience turned out to be just the shot in the arm my Halloween spirit needed. This place, filled with folks of all ages and from all walks, combing through obliterated racks of overpriced nylon as everything from strobe lights to remixed Rocky Horror songs assaulted their senses, was Halloween personified.

I don’t know what it was, exactly, but I felt great in there. Maybe it was that my girlfriend took two hours to decide that they had nothing she wanted, and thus gave me ample time to soak in the nuances of a Halloween store like I never have before. I don’t know. The store just felt so alive and rife with emotion. People are pretty passionate about their Halloween costumes, it seems.

For one thing, the place was loud. All kinds of sounds at war with one another, from spooky songs blaring over the speakers, to the constant chatter of audio-animatronic decorations, to people arguing over what would and wouldn’t fit…if there was an exact midpoint between a swap meet held in a gymnasium and night at a swank uptown nightclub, this was it.

There were plenty of little kids, and of all the people shopping there, they were the most emotional. None of them seemed happy, but they probably were. It’s kind of a fool’s errand to shop for a Halloween costume so late in October. If you aren’t the type of person who can “settle,” you’re going to be disappointed with your findings. Children may be as unique as snowflakes, but they all have one thing in common: They don’t settle. Not without tears and tantrums. I saw many of those. If a small boy determined that the store was sold out of the costume he wanted, he blamed his parents, cursing them and shaming them and pretty much doing everything you can do to a person without getting the cops involved. It felt like I saw this scenario happen at least a dozen times tonight.

I loved it. Not just for the voyeuristic pleasure involved with watching strangers flip out, but because I totally remember what it was like to consider what you wore for Halloween as the single most important event in history. (Click here…I’ve been there.)

Then there was the older crowd, the high schoolers and college students, who always arrived in groups and generally stuck with two types of Halloween costumes: Slutty or offensive. Girls flocked to fishnets and skirts that looked like dog collars, and guys flocked to costumes in the shape of giant penises. Within this group was a smaller caste of gothy, freaky kids who weren’t as much there to buy anything as they were to have simply a haven from whatever interpersonal conflicts awaited them at the nearby mall or coffee shop. At that age, I related much more to them. Part of me hoped that one of them would ask us to get beer for their crew.

Then there was the much older crowd — the simple folks who either didn’t have children or whose children were all grown up. These people were great. Totally jolly, totally carefree and totally welcoming the opportunity to be goofy. It was just so oddly uplifting to spot fifty-somethings sneaking around in Jigsaw masks, trying to scare their wives.

Mostly though, the experience was reminder that Halloween is alive and well, and that the times when I thought it wasn’t were all my fault. I don’t live in a bubble, but sometimes, I set up shop there. If you want something to seem as good as it used to, you’ve gotta actually do the things that made it so great to begin with.

So, I grabbed the gorilla mask, and the gorilla gloves. Tomorrow night, I’ll wear them with pride. I’ll even beat my chest like a real monkey — or at least, I’ll do this upon request.

I hope you all have plans, and I hope at least one of them involves dressing like a gorilla…or whatever else.

Posted by Matt. E-mail me!