The Family *roll

We joined a group of friends last night to go to the Cooreman/Lindenfelser Halloween Bash at Northfield Grand Event Center. The Event Center is a defunct theater that is rented out for occasions, weddings for the most part. But once a year Cooreman and Lindenfelser (two Northfielders we are told) rent the space for a Halloween party. The five of us put together a fantastic group costume. We went as an Obamacare Death Panel, decked out in Emily’s scrubs and lab coats. We even gave ourselves clever names like “Dr. van der Mort” and “S.O. Cialista.” We went for the made-up names after we decided that naming ourselves “Dr. Kevorkian” and the like was too political and possibly insensitive.

We need not have worried. Our concern for political sensitivity was totally misplaced. To wit, there were five people in blackface, three of whom were dressed as Harlem Globetrotters, massive fake afros and all. And just when we thought our jaws couldn’t get any closer to the ground, in came the “Mexicans” clad in colorful ponchos, sombreros and long, fake mustaches. Ah, small town America. Our death panel costume was barely noticed or, to the extent it was, met with bafflement: the first person to see our costume had not heard of “death panels.” I suppose that’s a good thing.

The two costumes that really impressed us, however, were not as incendiary. One fellow was wearing a kind of bio-hazard suit with the words, “Swine Flue Inspector” written on the back. No I did not misspell “flu.” I mean, I did not misspell “flu.” We figured he must be the guy you call when you are worried that you have a pig stuck up your chimney. Makes perfect sense. But the number 1 prize goes to the guy dressed as a professor: grayed hair, dorky glasses, a sweater vest. And, the coup de grace, his name tag, which read, “Professor Fucksalot.” I think we would have been safe with “Dr. Kevorkian.”

We had a fantastic time even beyond the people watching,. Good friends, good food, good drink and some good dancing. Emily and I got drunker than we’ve been in a long time, which seemed like an excellent plan until our achy heads met baby cries at 5.30am. Ooooh, ouch.