In the horror film series “The Purge”, Americans scared down at home one night a year while their noisy countrymen outside legally shoot and slaughter each other on the street.
This weekend, New Yorkers should follow that sage’s advice and stay locked inside their apartments while a bunch of disgusting 25-year-olds shoot and get slaughtered.
Halloween – the worst holiday ever – is back.
How, you wonder, can I be such a fun-hating, miserable, ugly person after such a difficult year of cancellations and deferrals? Easy! But first be aware that All Hallows Eve in NYC is a uniquely grotesque experience I would not wish on anyone. I’m sure it’s absolutely amazing in Bismarck, North Dakota.
Beyond the city and in the more residential areas of the outer city districts, cute children dressed as princesses and Wall-E run up to amazingly well-appointed suburbs and say “trick or treat!” and get a Snickers bar. Adults go to parties with punch bowls. On a. Sweet. Park Slope-y.
Manhattan, meanwhile, is an expensive hellhole.
Halloween lasts here for days. Vomiting on the sidewalk becomes vomiting. Cheap tangled fake cobwebs waste Marc Jacobs and Kiehl’s storefronts. Guys who make six characters on Goldman Sachs a day can not remember their own names while shouting in your face like Jack Nicholson in “The Shining” at the last call. You can not get a glass of wine anywhere without paying a cover fee to see a magician.
And oh, the endless preparation. Like Lady Gaga on Oscar night, several expensive outfits are required for every sweaty bacchanal on Lavo and the Q. Note: All your employees who have “worked from home” spent every second of the week putting together their sexy “Squid Game” – look. it will probably get them canceled in 10 years when some shit decides it’s offensive. To torture young people, schedule a mandatory Zoom meeting at 8 on Monday!
And this year, I guarantee the horror party will be the worst we’ve ever seen. Halloween 2021 will make SantaCon look like Good Friday.
While Midtown is slowly returning to its old self before tourists reappear en masse, the center has become a 24-hour bacchanal of pent-up pandemic energy. Washington Square Park and Gomorrah. LES Vegas. New Amsterdam. When it does not smell of pot, it smells of PBR.
The second night on East 10th Street, I passed a NYU student (I have no proof of this, but come on now) fainted with my face first on the sidewalk, surrounded by a group of friends.
Said one of his friends: “Dude. The time is 20.00”
Childish! On Saturday and Sunday, you step over drunken 20-year-olds at dawn, as if it is the aftermath of the zombie apocalypse. Wear good shoes at your own risk. And take an Uber if you want to break.
Or better yet, stay home and watch a great New York horror film like “Rosemary’s Baby” – a film that, while about a traumatized young wife and a satanic cult worshiping the devil’s alley, offers a more civilized vision of the city than anything else you will witness this damn weekend.