My past Halloweens have been one disappointment after another. Last year there was a blizzard. The year before that I went to a party on Dartmouth Street and abruptly left after 30 minutes. Fed up with my string of bad luck, I decided to change my fate this year. My suitemates and I went to Salem, M.A., a town infamous for the Salem Witch trials. It is also the home of author Nathaniel Hawthorne. Approximately 40,000 people go to Salem each year to celebrate Halloween.
I only had one hour to come up with an outfit. I was a cross between Snooki and an ’80s dancer. I had the poof, large gold hoop earrings and the iconic ’80s makeup. Gaudy bright red lipstick. Barbie pink blush. Blue, green and purple eye shadow filled up to my eyebrows. Bushy dark eyebrows. For the rest of my ensemble, I wore a coral one-piece over black glitter tights and thick, gray knee-high socks. To finish off, I laced up my off-white Converses and threw on a black motorcycle jacket.
The drive took 40 minutes. Salem is a quaint town with cobblestone streets and colonial-style houses. Thousands walked the streets of Salem in costume. It was unnerving to be packed in a crowd full of zombies, witches and Freddies.
I am petrified of anything remotely scary. I covered my eyes the entire time while the rest of my friends watched The Ring. Whenever a commercial for a horror movie comes on TV, I shut my eyes and ramble a continuous stream of random words until it’s over—when I can’t reach the remote in time to mute the TV. However, I caved to peer pressure and paid $8 for entrance to Frankenstein’s Castle, named the best haunted house in the city for five years in a row by the local newspaper.
As we edged closer and closer to the entrance, I started panicking. I squeezed my friend’s hand tighter when the door closed behind us and we were submerged in darkness. I knew that I had made a bad decision.
“Roooaaar!” A man with a grotesque mask jumped out at me with a hammer. I screamed for a good minute and yelled at the man “I want to leave now!” I barely made it one foot away from the door before I decided that it was too much for my delicate heart to handle.
I was not able to get a refund for my ticket, but I had the option of either going to the wax museum, the Witches Village (another haunted house) or to see a “real” witch cast a spell. I most certainly was not going to the haunted house, so I opted for the wax museum. The museum was very small. It featured wax models of historical figures involved in the Salem Witch trials. Each exhibit had a small plaque with some historical information. Needless to say, I was out of there within five minutes.
The festivities in Salem culminate with fireworks at 10:15 p.m. Fireworks are something that you will always appreciate, no matter at what age. When the fireworks came on, the drunken, costumed crowd quieted down and became transfixed by bursts of pink, red, green and gold.
While I am not sure if I would go to Salem again, it is worth it to pay a visit.