At last, I thought, something to have a good old winge about. Halloween in San Francisco sucks.
On Monday night (still in Samurai suit), I fell down to the Castro for the 'crazy halloween street party'. At first it felt very Notting Hill Carnival-esque....too many people, too many police, whoops rather than whistles. But then it went (fake) tits up.
For starters, you can't drink in the street here, unless you've pre-wrapped a shandy in a brown paper bag. Absurd. So, rather than a limitless vat of Red Stripe to fuel your fun, you spend hours fighting your way into bars. Trust me - if you're dressed in a silk Kimono, you need a few glasses of Dizzyade to get in the groove.
Of course, muggins here had forgotten his ID again, so the best I could hope for was a lemonade sugar rush. And then the law confiscated my PLASTIC SWORD. "Hand over the weapon" said Chips, "There's no duellin' to be done tonight". I think he meant to add that I could have had someone's eye out with that. From Samurai to man-in-a-gay-dressing-gown in seconds.
Still, my fancy dress was better than most. The warehouse stores that spring up all over the city in October ensure hundreds of identikit Supermen, Pirate Girls and Inflatable Sumos. Listening in, conversational gems included:
"Woah, dude are you Superman?"
"Superman - woah dude - cool!"
"Dude - have you seen that Dude dressed as Superman? Woah!"
Also, I'm not entirely sure a Halloween Costume Party is the best venue for serious political protest. "Stop the 9/11 cover up!" screamed the placard bearing bald man in a spandex-romper-suit, semi tumescent cock making the kids cry.
Disheartened, I tried to dance (permitted) but the twirly drag-queen disco house wouldn't lift my leaden legs. So I headed home, got picked up by a mobile party bus, drove to Treasure Island and spent an hour dancing in the road with awesome views of the city. Which was ace.
Bugger.
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