There they were, right at the stroke of 5pm: a cute little gaggle of goblins and ghosts, the first genuine trick-or-treaters I had seen in decades, right on my front doorstop, shrieking “TRICK OR TREAT”, with open bags outstretched.
Depending on where you live in Vancouver, All Hallow’s Eve can be a vastly different experience. If you're a downtown condo dweller, the night of lost souls can be an eternal hellfire of caterwauling partiers in all manner of costume, staggering about on the sidewalks like the drunken living dead. If you live deep within the West End, Halloween can slip quietly past you like Patrick Swayze in Ghost. No one trick-or-treats to apartment buildings. Believe me, I know. I lived in one for about 10 years. It was a graveyard on Halloween.
A couple of years ago, my wife and I inadvertently happened to move onto none other than our city’s single busiest street for trick-or-treaters: the tell tale heart of Trinity Street in East Vancouver. Weeks in advance of Halloween, we couldn’t help but notice our new neighbours going into full on beast mode, transforming their yards and homes into spooktacular sets that could easily give the nearby Playland Fright Nights a run for their lost souls.Those same neighbours warned us repeatedly about the street’s famed yearly onslaught of lil’ devils, but like the disposable characters of any good horror movie, we mostly ignored the warnings, thinking it was likely over-hyped. We were gravely mistaken.
After that first group of cuddly kindred spirits plundered off into the night, a non-stop haunted parade bled into our yard and up the steps… by the hundreds. Picture a monster mash up of The Walking Dead and Muppet Babies. Our candy supply quickly became skeletal, and soon I was dashing through the ghoulish hordes and bursting into the nearby McGill Grocery to re-up.
And if you ever want to gauge what's hot with kids 12 and under, just have hundreds of them show up to your doorstep on Halloween. That first year, American pop star Nicky Minaj was a ridiculously popular get-up for the girls. Subtract and rearrange a few of those letters and you have Ninja, which was on point for the boys.
Zombies were the constant gender crossover costume, with various macabre twists. When I asked one kid what his spiked hair, dog collar, and torn up, bloody costume was all about, he replied "Zombie Sid Vicious". His aging punk rock father stood at the bottom of the steps, smiling proudly.
When I questioned another little boy about his costume, which was large, round, and green, he replied "some random Ninja Turtle". Ok. Wait, hold up... a random Ninja Turtle? There's only four! Pick one, kid!
The best costume that first year had to be the little girl in bug eye sunglasses and headphones, who walked from door to door with a massive cardboard DJ console strapped to her waist, complete with two turntables and a microphone, blasting out the beats.
When the crowds finally died down, I kid you not, we had counted over SEVEN HUNDRED trick-or-treaters to our door. The haunted house on the corner topped out at over nine hundred sugar seekers.
This Halloween will be my toddler's first time trick-or-treating up and down the block of his overly festive neighbourhood. He wants to be some random orca. I can't wait to hear him shriek "TRICK OR TREAT" with open bag outstretched.
