Best. Halloween. Ever.
I think the key to having a great time in any situation is to ultimately forgo any expectation. On Halloween, Alissa and I were just happy to be here, in Glasgow, and to have a small circle of Americans to celebrate with. Our costumes were janky. Originally we had both wanted to be other things — a silver fox and a dinosaur, respectively — but procrastination got the better of us and we ended up as Wendy Torrence and a homeless person. If I look frumpy, I was wearing four layers of winter clothing.
At around 10:30 p.m., Alissa and I met up with Nick to walk to a supposed "castle" party in Partick. Nick was dressed in the style of Devo. Leave it to an American to go all-out for Halloween, what with the musical references and labor-intensive costume. For the two days prior, he'd really gotten into the spirit of the tradition. He shopped, he cut, he dyed, he glued, he spray painted — the work was evident.
Apparently the castle party was just up the road from Nick's flat but somehow we ended up deep in Partick, passing Nick's grocer, Nick's launderer, Nick's old man bar, and eventually past anything Nick recognized until we were officially lost. It was freezing but no one really seemed to mind. We must've walked for about a good hour and spent another 45 minutes waiting for a cab outside a suburban restaurant called the Three Craws. The situation sounds like a less ideal way to spend the first bit of our Halloween night but, really, we were having a grand old time. To pass the frostbitten moments and to keep warm, we began drinking Buckfast, a tonic wine I'd never heard of. Nick called it a "fighting wine" and I imagined a whole generation of toothless Scottish men drinking this cough syrup concoction and knifing each other afterward. Luckily, none of us knifed the other but we did take a stab at a musical career. Our hits include "Standing on the Corner," "Frostbite. Midnite," and "Weeded In the Womb." Our album drops some time next year.
By the grace of God or Ganesh, Nick eventually haled a taxi and we were miraculously transported a whopping two miles back to the area of town we sought. Once there, we stumbled down Ashton Lane like pilgrim zombies and found a visually-interesting alleyway to finish our Buckfast in. We were a sight to behold. Costumed freaks. Halloweened trainwrecks, dropping inside jokes like we'd known eachother for years. Sacred weirdos, patronizing party sites as though we were on some divine quest for fun. And it found us.
After spending about an hour or so at the Postgraduate Club, which was hosting an interesting Halloween-themed band night, we followed some of Nick's "little friends" to the intended castle party a few blocks away. Castle party, really? In the middle of Glasgow? Indeed, a three-story "castle" in the middle of Glasgow. Three stories of bad Euro techno, Frenchmen in disguise, and sheer and utter debauchery. When first we entered the home, which was literally overflowing with human bodies, Alissa turned to me and said "I can't believe we're really here right now." That was sort of the feeling of the moment. The place was huge — vaulted ceilings, ornate Victorian woodwork, wide winding stairwells — and we couldn't wait to explore the upper levels. "What do you think goes on up there?" asked Alissa as Nick headed up to find the toilets. "Probably lots of touching," I said. So we followed not far behind Nick, out of an admitted curiousity, and found a make-out floor. Weird. We went to the next floor and found a slew of people smoking hand rolled cigarettes in an "eagle's nest." It felt good enough, we had a view of the street below, and, besides, it was as high as we could go.
Nick was the toast of the "eagle's nest" while Alissa and I goofed off with Strongbow boxes and my camera. Eventually the cops came but they were all really nice. They just wanted the party to be quiet, they didn't want us to stop drinking. That's the difference between US cops and Scottish cops. It was as if the Scottish cops just wanted the party to end — no one was breaking the law, we were just being a nuisance to the neighborhood. In the States, however, someone would've gotten a ticket or arrested or cuffed. For chrissake, these cops didn't even have guns! Very interesting differences.
On the way home, I stole a mini pumpkin off the front porch of a tenement and I overheard a conversation between Nick and a girl dressed as the Statue of Liberty.
At around 10:30 p.m., Alissa and I met up with Nick to walk to a supposed "castle" party in Partick. Nick was dressed in the style of Devo. Leave it to an American to go all-out for Halloween, what with the musical references and labor-intensive costume. For the two days prior, he'd really gotten into the spirit of the tradition. He shopped, he cut, he dyed, he glued, he spray painted — the work was evident.
Apparently the castle party was just up the road from Nick's flat but somehow we ended up deep in Partick, passing Nick's grocer, Nick's launderer, Nick's old man bar, and eventually past anything Nick recognized until we were officially lost. It was freezing but no one really seemed to mind. We must've walked for about a good hour and spent another 45 minutes waiting for a cab outside a suburban restaurant called the Three Craws. The situation sounds like a less ideal way to spend the first bit of our Halloween night but, really, we were having a grand old time. To pass the frostbitten moments and to keep warm, we began drinking Buckfast, a tonic wine I'd never heard of. Nick called it a "fighting wine" and I imagined a whole generation of toothless Scottish men drinking this cough syrup concoction and knifing each other afterward. Luckily, none of us knifed the other but we did take a stab at a musical career. Our hits include "Standing on the Corner," "Frostbite. Midnite," and "Weeded In the Womb." Our album drops some time next year.
By the grace of God or Ganesh, Nick eventually haled a taxi and we were miraculously transported a whopping two miles back to the area of town we sought. Once there, we stumbled down Ashton Lane like pilgrim zombies and found a visually-interesting alleyway to finish our Buckfast in. We were a sight to behold. Costumed freaks. Halloweened trainwrecks, dropping inside jokes like we'd known eachother for years. Sacred weirdos, patronizing party sites as though we were on some divine quest for fun. And it found us.
After spending about an hour or so at the Postgraduate Club, which was hosting an interesting Halloween-themed band night, we followed some of Nick's "little friends" to the intended castle party a few blocks away. Castle party, really? In the middle of Glasgow? Indeed, a three-story "castle" in the middle of Glasgow. Three stories of bad Euro techno, Frenchmen in disguise, and sheer and utter debauchery. When first we entered the home, which was literally overflowing with human bodies, Alissa turned to me and said "I can't believe we're really here right now." That was sort of the feeling of the moment. The place was huge — vaulted ceilings, ornate Victorian woodwork, wide winding stairwells — and we couldn't wait to explore the upper levels. "What do you think goes on up there?" asked Alissa as Nick headed up to find the toilets. "Probably lots of touching," I said. So we followed not far behind Nick, out of an admitted curiousity, and found a make-out floor. Weird. We went to the next floor and found a slew of people smoking hand rolled cigarettes in an "eagle's nest." It felt good enough, we had a view of the street below, and, besides, it was as high as we could go.
Nick was the toast of the "eagle's nest" while Alissa and I goofed off with Strongbow boxes and my camera. Eventually the cops came but they were all really nice. They just wanted the party to be quiet, they didn't want us to stop drinking. That's the difference between US cops and Scottish cops. It was as if the Scottish cops just wanted the party to end — no one was breaking the law, we were just being a nuisance to the neighborhood. In the States, however, someone would've gotten a ticket or arrested or cuffed. For chrissake, these cops didn't even have guns! Very interesting differences.
On the way home, I stole a mini pumpkin off the front porch of a tenement and I overheard a conversation between Nick and a girl dressed as the Statue of Liberty.
I looked back at Nick and bulged my eyes. What did she say? Wow. We've gotta get home. Well, first we need to make a stop at the chip shop first. We end most nights at the chip shop."Are you gay?" she asked him.
"Uh no,"
"Then why haven't you tried to make out with me?"
"Um, I'm a prude."
Alissa as a bum
Shannon as Wendy Torrence
Low shutter speed in front of the Three Craws
Nick attempting to hail a taxi unsuccessfully
Working on our burgeoning music career
"We are DEVO, are we not men?"
Posing with the Buckfast and freezing.
"Fighting wine" + bum = bum fights?
Tasted like cough syrup.
The perfect Halloween drink.
When we made it to the postgrad club, I found this Scottish girl in a Texas hat.
Then Alissa and I stole Nick's hat and started posing with it.
It didn't quite fit my head.
Just before we made it to the castle.
Finally at the castle.
There were three floors of sheer debauchery. It was amazing.
It brought out the beast in us.
As you can tell from the wild look in Alissa's eyes.
We saw this guy in a window earlier in the night. I yelled at him from the street.
I told Alissa to put this Strongbow box on her head. Strongbow is cider, for the non-UK readers.
Nick recalling an old war story.
This was shortly before the cops showed up.
Like baby birds.
