Costumed

photo by Andrew Squirrel

Suppose you are compelled by adult responsibilities to be up an atom the next morning for “Disaster Preparedness Training;” couldn’t you just submit your Thursday night Halloween bike ride experience to earn the required certification or whatever?

After all, it’s got to count as being pretty much ready for anything the Universe throws at you to pedal alongside Ronald McFondle, Gumby Damnit, and sexy Dorothy from Oz while singing the only scary song you can remember to the catcalls and cheers of costumed revelers all around your fair city’s central waterway on All Hallow’s Eve, right?

We’re not in Kansas, anymore, Toto, that’s for sure, and, besides, who’d want to be when the alternative is a warm end to what certainly will go down as the driest October on record (or, in memory, at least) and an outdoor stop at a park that’s usually just for flowers and toddlers, not grown-ups in Flintstone’s outfits, sombreros, and high-concept dress-ups supposedly referencing online memes and inside jokes.

Kids love the spectacle, we know that, but everywhere the peculiar pelaton pedals people point and wave; merriment abounds, especially on the inside and most of all when wigs are traded and oldsters dance like hermit prospectors shooing varmints offa their grubstake.

And if being ready for emergencies is the theme, then how can it not count to have survived the sight of Shaddup Joe’s chest merkin bulging from the tiny devil outfit; surely this prepares even the most timorous out there for ducking and covering when the proverbial shit hits the fan.

There was even a legitimately spooky ride through the darkened forest and while I did see a gladiator crash on the marble raceway, there was battle armor for protection, so no harm done.

Eventually, two wheels turned into many cups in the old man bar turned post-graduate masquerade for the special occasion; having survived that, is a course on what to do when the big one hits still required?