That time I wore a Halloween costume

In the adult world, there are few clear binaries anymore. Nuances abound, and there are always shades of gray. But there’s one thing that remains relatively straightforward: You’re either a person who enjoys dressing up in a costume for Halloween, or you’re not.

I’m not a costume person.

For starters, I plunge into a borderline existential crisis simply dressing myself each morning. Does this shirt match with these pants? Is my clothing really a reflection of who I am? Who am I? I struggle with these questions, forget trying to dress as someone or something else.

I also have no inclination to scare anyone and, for some reason, I’m dubious about my ability to pull off a Slutty Nurse costume.

At some point in college, however, I did own a rather elaborate Alf mask, although I can’t recall how the mask—which pulled over my head and had the prominent alien snout and rust-colored fur—came into my possession.

It was one of those things where I was living in a fraternity house, and the mask magically showed up in my room. I wore the Alf mask for two consecutive Halloweens in the mid-90s, and then as mysteriously as it arrived, it disappeared.

But I have never really been into dressing up for Halloween. Even when I would take my kids trick-or-treating when they were young, I never bothered to dress up, like some of the more exuberant parents.

I suppose, on some level, this could be a manifestation of my anxiety and antipathy toward drawing attention to myself. And I’m never invited to Halloween parties that require costumes anymore.

There was an exception, however.

I’ve been known, on occasion, to stop by Chelby’s Pizza on Mammoth Road and indulge in a few cold beverages. In October of 2021, as the world was reawakening from our COVID-cocoon, the then-owners of Chelby’s decided to shut down the restaurant on a Saturday night and host a Halloween costume contest for their regular customers.

I can’t remember who first thought of our costume idea—most likely it was my friend Kim, who is a costume person—but my wife, Kim and I decided on a group costume, and we went to the party as Hillary Clinton, Monica Lewinsky and Bill Clinton, respectively.

The ladies purchased outfits befitting professional female attire—my wife wore a no-nonsense pantsuit, and Kim donned the notorious black beret. I threw on a shirt and tie and ordered a rubber mask molded to the likeness of Slick Willy.

In retrospect, it was a truly terrifying costume, seeing the Clinton/Lewinsky scandal proved to be ground zero for online bullying and would lead the nation down a slippery slope that would one day result in 24/7 cycles of salacious “news” stories and the normalization of future presidents bedding porn stars.

Our costumes were a big hit, however, and I believe we won a prize in some category, but neither my wife, Kim nor I can remember what the category was.

These days, with Halloween around the corner, I’m simply dressing as Nate, a middle-aged teacher and writer who drinks beer at Chelby’s Pizza. Besides, there is nowhere for me to go dressed as a Slutty Nurse, and the world is better off for it.

But I really wish I still had that Alf mask.