The utmost horror that anyone could experience on a Sunday is waking up to an appointment in 20 minutes and the delightful sight of your car with its doors wide open, headlights on, and a dead battery. This was the outcome of my three-day, senior year Halloween bender. 

Thursday

My friends and I initially planned to have a mellow Halloween. Think: trick-or-treating, visiting my grandma, and calling it a night. My grandma, however, had other plans. She got my friends drunk — except for me, the designated driver for the night — and hyped on sugar, embodying the slogan on her hand towel: “If the broom fits … ride it.” Let’s just say that granny has gotten a bit more freaky these days. 

Before we knew it, we were at a party sneaking small plastic ducks into people’s pockets and venturing off onto sneaky side quests. After we coerced a dance off between two guys in shark costumes, a guy in a cop costume raided the battle and “arrested” me by handcuffing our wrists together. We were physically bound as a unit, but I was the one with the power. He did everything that I commanded him to do, especially when it was to dance. We hit the dance floor and whipped out an insane, in sync routine that we perfected during our time handcuffed together. Then, I got bored and began fiending for a challenge, so we partook in a pushup competition while a group of people cheered us on. 

Suddenly, the cop gasped and said that he had lost the key to the handcuffs! My initial thought was: How the hell am I going to drive people home and fulfill my duties as a very responsible designated driver? He would have to climb after me into the passenger seat, co-steer the wheel of my car, drop my friends off, and then end at his house, where he could free me. No, no, no. Despite this “setback,” I was cheering internally, imagining how this experience would be the perfect addition to my collection of plot-driven stories.  

Friday

Three of my best friends and I ate at World Curry in Pacific Beach as a preface to a night of bar-hopping. Eating amazing food while surrounded by my best friends was a magical experience. Since my best friend owned the restaurant, we stayed after closing time. We hijacked the restaurant speakers and dimmed the lights. All four of us pranced around on the empty floor, spinning and singing to the soundtrack of “La La Land.” 

We then finessed our way into a bar called Countdown. This was where we met The Cow. This man, who was wearing a cow onesie, was in LOVE with my friend. He grabbed the locket around my friend’s neck and pulled her in, asking about her “sexy necklace.” She replied that it was a locket of her boyfriend and opened it up to a picture of him, but this did not stop The Cow. He continued to make moves. I don’t think I have ever seen someone get shut down so many times; it was hilarious. 

Saturday 

It was pouring when we arrived at the UC San Diego Surf Club party, but we quickly made our way under the umbrella of a Paper of a Rock, Paper, and Scissors group costume. Four hundred or so people sloshed around the flooded backyard and danced to live band music through the peaks and bellows of a rainstorm. We drank sangria from a pumpkin, which fueled our hike up the bank of the backyard and helped us navigate through the smoke machines. Throughout the night, we hung out with and befriended many characters: two Shaggys and a Scooby-Doo (unexpectedly matching my Daphne costume), a friend I met on the internet (who snatched my Scooby purse and chewed on it), a pickle, and frat guys for whom I once baked cookies for. I ended off the night by luring everyone to come watch me do the worm. 

As we headed home, my DD and I had to pull a “block-the-camera” maneuver, the high-anxiety event of sneaking into a house undetected, which ended up killing our car battery because we had forgotten to turn off the car lights. Despite the horrors that followed on Sunday morning, Halloweekend this year was perfect and filled with the people I love the most.