f t" - .,.. .-.. k1.! _ k . z 1 . 0 0 0 12B - The Michigan Daily Weekendi Magazie - Thursday, October 30, 1997 State of the Arts DRESSED TO KILL Remember Halloween as a kid? It was a holiday of innocence, fun, frolic and gluttony. Remember planning your costume for weeks beforehand? It was going to be the greatest thing the Halloween community had ever seen. Remember trick-or-treating in that great costume? It was the day and night when your siblings, parents and friends gathered together to show off and reap rewards. Do you then remember that one kid who just looked disenchanted by it all; who had a crappy last-minute costume; and who would rather pass out candy and laugh at others than be seen in some ridiculous getup for more than two seconds? That was me. Ah, Halloween. How do I hate thee? Let me count the ways ... Actually, there's just one reason I hate Halloween and it's not because random strangers gave me candy - forget razor Bryan Lar blades in Mounds bars and let me rum- Daily Arts mage through my booty like a horny pirate! It's not because I was frightened by the All Hallows Eve scenario -ghosts, ghouls and monsters didn't scare me at all; only Oompa-Loompas made me cower in a corner. And it's not because I was worried about potential diseases being acquired while bobbing for apples - give me a good game of skill or give me pneumonia! No, I hate Halloween because of costumes, plain and simple. I don't even like myself sometimes; why would I like myself with a sheet over my head? Call me a mid-autumn Scrooge, call me a party pooper, call me what you like, I do not like dressing up; at least not in any public forum. Seriously now, the only time I remember ever enjoying a costume was in my early childhood, when my Halloween costume for three consecutive years was my beloved Batman Underoos. But hell, with those Underoos at my disposal to protect and serve the citizens of Gotham City each and every day, why should dressing up for Halloween be so special? It's special because everyone says it's special - you k sE get free candy for doing it, dammit! So as not to be a social outcast, I reluctantly succumbed to peer pres- sure and kiddie greed, and dressed up every Oct. 31, and paraded myself around the neighborhood in cos- tume after costume, praying for those Hershey's miniatures and fearing torment. The reason I feared torment from my peers was my costume choices - and not because of their sheer out- landishness but because of their overall dullness. Dullness that stemmed not from lack of creative impulse but lack of preparation. Year after year, I improvised at around 4 p.m., hoping to transform hou. gold goods into Halloween perfection. Alas, this turned (ut not to be the case. After years of boring baseball players, average Army men and Osh-Kosh- and tool-belt-wearing carpenters, I remember the year, upon giving up the Underoos, that I tried to make myself over into Indiana Jones. ditor Clad in khaki trousers, tan shirt, brown leather jacket and a rain hat that doubled as a fedora, I walked the streets of Dearborn with a cocky sneer and a last-minute store-bought fake whip of which I was extremely and almost perverse- ly fond. Imagine my dismay when, after all my effort, I was received by neighbors with comments like, "Ooh, I haven't seen a lion tamer that good in a few years," or questions like "Are you one of them nature-channel fellas?" With that fiasco in mind, I decided to go back to basics the next year by simply writing a number on a pair of white paper painter's coveralls and calling myself a convict. A little too simple, perhaps, but give me a break, I was a graduate of the "Mr. Dress-Up" school of homemade arts and crafts. The prisoner garb was quickly convicted, as the coveralls were so huge that I proceeded to trip and tear a gaping hole in the paper suit before I made it around the block. If these embarrassments seem childish and trivial, consider my costume choices as I got older. Again opting for simplicity around the age of 13, I put on black sweatpants and sweatshirt, a red sheet around my neck and a makeshift pitchfork in my hand. I was the devil, in case any of my dense, misinformed Dearborn neighbors are reading this. My devilish antics were briskly halted when one of my friends pointed out that my sly demeanor and sin- ful strut made me appear like a "femme fatale." Feminine side be damned, as I stripped myself of Satan and sulked in my room. Or take another sulk-worthy occasion that took place at a high school Halloween dance when I was persuaded to participate in a group costume recreating of the Village People - I was the cop, replete with handcuffs, which is less embarrassing than, say, the sailor or the Indian chief. The embarrassing part here is that at every wedding or dance, my friends and I are expected to lead the masses in a rousing rendition of "Y.M.C.A." Another dance brought the experience of a group costume of "Peter Pan" characters. I offered to be Michael, the youngest, since he reminded me so much of myself - an embarrassed, hapless child who des- perately wanted to get out of there and go directly to bed. Hey, maybe that costume wasn't so bad after all. Perhaps this year, I can find another costume that is a thinly veiled, not-too-humiliating version of me. Since I don't think I'll have the time before tomor- row to create one of those hefty, impossibly innovative over-the-head costumes like a shower, Mount Rushmore or the Mona Lisa, I guess I'll take my own youthful advice and go simple. Maybe, since I'm going to the U2 concert, I could get a haircut, put on a tank top and some jeans, get some drumsticks and call myself Larry Mullen Jr. Or even better - I could follow Adam Sandier's advice and not wear a costume at all, just a sour expression, with which I could walk around Dearborn saying "Remember me? I'm disgruntled anti-costume man! Now give me some candy!" - E-mail Bryan Lark at blark@umich.edu. TRADITIONS Continued from Page 25 stuck in the darkness in between, and the devil gave Jack a single ember for light. He placed the ember in a hollow gourd to lengthen its life. On Halloween, in honor of Jack, the Irish harvest gourds from the fields, and carve them into a potpourri of shapes and designs. When Irish immigrants came to the United States, they brought along their traditions. But they ditched the gourd, finding the pumpkin to be a better vessel for their embers. As a result, millions of pumpkins shine in Americans' windows each year on Oct. 31. Some people see Halloween as more than just a secular holiday. For witches, Samhain (a pagan name for Halloween) is the most important of their four High Holidays. School of Information graduate stu- dent Maggie Rohde, a Celtic pagan, sees Samhain "as a time to honor my ances- tors and friends who have died. I find this an excellent time of year to reflect on what I have done, and begin anew." Rohde is irked by misconceptions that characterize Halloween as "evil" or "satanic." She asserted that "The occult nature of Halloween is really just related to the idea that it was supposed to be easy for spirits to pass from the spirit to the material world at this time of year. "Popular culture has assimilated these ties to death and spirits as 'evil,' when in actuality they're just part of the natural cycle of things;' Rohde said. But, for most people, this sense of evil simply adds to the eight's mysteri- ous and eerie ambiance. Halloween is a celebration of ghouls, ghosts, monsters and demons. When Oct. 31 rolls around, spirits rule the night and every- one, whether pagan or not, gets a glimpse into the world of the supernat- ural. By Nicole Pearl For the Daily Ahhhh! No, that scream wasn't from the stress of midterms. It was a sample of the abrupt shrieks that pierce the air at Ann Arbor's local haunted houses. The spirit of Halloween awakens at "The Dungeon of Doom." This freak- ish trailer stands in a desolate lot waiting for those who dare to approach the haunted house. Completing the journey through mazes, pitch-black openings and psy- chedelic lighting takes about eight long minutes. The haunted house is open from 7 p.m. on, but the terror is heightened at 9 p.m., when the R- rated, "extremely scary" version of the haunted house begins. The Dungeon of Doom has a sec- ond purpose besides terrifying the unwary. Most of the proceeds from the haunted house go to a Li ingston County boy named Mark Alex, a 7- year-old in need of a bone marrow transplant. Every year, proceeds from the Dungeon of Doom go to support a charity or good cause, and workers as well as guests pitch in. "All of the people are volunteers working for free," said haunted house director Doug Opie. "We want people to know that this is to raise money for Alex." The Dungeon's tremendous effort to create an authentic haunted house is readily apparent in guests' chills and shivers. With no hints of what lurks behind each corner, the haunted house's reality is shockingly different than it appears to be. In one black area, a horde of illu- minated Jason masks (like the mask in "Friday the 13th") scowl at specta- tors, stripping any of their remaining confidence. Though the horrific intensity dwindles in certain parts of the haunted house, frightening sights are visible throughout. There is an option to go through the haunted house in groups of one or two, but as LSA junior Jasmyn Bykowski said, thrill-seekers should "go alone for the ultimate effect." Other students agreed that the haunted house had a chilling effect on them. "It was scarier than the movie 'Scream'; we were living in it,' said LSA sophomore Lara Englebardt. LSA junior Leyla Shashaani agreed, as she gasped while saying, "My heart skipped a beat. This is a fun, seasonal activity to start the night, especially if you're ready for a thrill." For those seeking a myriad of fright- ful sights, Wiard's Orchards is another spot not to miss. Wiard's puts on a show for haunted house connoisseurs, offering a "spooky hayride," "haunted asylum," and the newest feature added this year, "the monster maze." The, variety of attractions provides some-, thing for everyone: Kurt Zupi, manag-, er of the orchard, sid, "We gear this to "It was scarier than the movie Scream'; We were living in it." - Lara Englebardt LSA sophomore all ages, children during the day, and young adults at night." Wiard's haunted house began 10 years ago; today, up to 70 employees collaborate to transform this apple orchard into wonderfully grotesque fields and macabre barns. The terror begins with the "Notice, proceed at your own risk" warning signs that pop up all over the area, successfully psyching out the visitor. Each adventure entails 15 minutes of threatening optical illusions, creepy scenes and a unique array of live per- formances. Guides act as seemingly objective leaders to help those who might need help navigating in the dark, but don't be too sure that they'll put you at ease - Wiard's haunted house will still prove to be frightening. "I dropped to my knees," said LSA sophomore Ali Felton-Church as she stepped out of the haunted asylum. University students may be too old to trick or treat, but they're never too old to be scared - and in the Ann Arbor area, haunted-house thrills and chills are only a short drive away. The Michigan Daily Weekend Local haunted houses provide thrill1s, c hlls Y CII."Y:t7 ::. *i for Halloween visitors A masked ghoul stands ready to frighten visitors at the ROTC haunted h r ______ r. r r i r .n +rr READ DAILY ARTS. UNIVERSITY SECRETS: YOUR GUIDE TO SURVIVING A COLLEGE 0 EDUCATION Author: Robert D. Honigman ;.. // The author is a long time contributor to the Daily, and his book contains reasons why abolishing Affirmative Action is wrong. Check it out at: http://www.tir.com/-honigman C - l r RECORDS IT'S CHEAP! IT'S CLOSE! ! P ED our 23rd year LP's, Tapes & CD's A- BOUGHT & SOLD Across from the Diag upstairs at * 336 1/2 S. State .Paying top dollar for your used CD's plus $1 bonus on trades! .Voted "Ann Arbor's Best" 13 straight years in The Michigan \ Daily readership poll! Ann Arbor * 761-86 a M-F 10-8 - Sat. 10-6 . Sun. 12-6 . AlA R pZ"o h: Ca E, fI 1 x <1 ... . './