The weekend before Halloween, our neighborhood has a huge costume party, and I mean huge.
We block off the road so cars can’t drive down, then we all bring out tables and chairs.
All the tables get put together like a long train in the middle of the street. As the sun goes down, everyone starts to load those tables with food.
There’s everything, from the Andersons’ annual spaghetti with eyeballs to chili and deviled eggs.
Huge bowls of candy are stashed around.
And of course, there are a ton of adult beverages that are mixed up and served with a spooky theme.
This year, Halloween falls on a weekend, but the party is still a weekaway.
At the last minute, I decide to drive the hour it takes to get home from college so I can stop by and say hey to everyone.
The problem is that my a
