Good Night Mr. Lewis: The Optimism Costume

A brilliant Halloween swept away the gloom from a city that desperately needed some good tidings. I left my home late Friday afternoon in my old, fat Elvis costume, and the streets of Nolita were packed with children dressed as skunks, pixies, angels, and such. I had to stop to watch this mini-parade of cuteness. Store owners filled the little tykes’ pumpkins and bags from their own pumpkins and bags with the requisite sweet stuff. I grabbed a cab to take me to a production meeting over at Webster Hall, where I was to be a judge at the $5,000 costume contest. Adults and teenagers in clown suits and monster masks strolled past at lights, and I asked my Pakistani driver what he thought of Halloween. He told me that he never understood it: “Americans are usually so brash and poorly dressed despite the great wealth of the country. But on this day they go crazy and are suddenly creative and very nice." He concluded that it gave him “a great feeling of optimism about us.”

With a thousand Chicken Little’s yelling at us everyday about the sky falling, Halloween was indeed a day of optimism. The Village parade drew millions. Was it the unusually nice weather, or the need to embrace something fun and escapist? I laughed and marveled at the creativity and sheer lunacy. I was struck by the lack of Barack Obamas or John McCains or even Sarah Palins (I’m sure no one wanted to be Joe Biden —whatever happened to that guy?). I guess Tina Fey took that stupid, evil embarrassment of a woman as far as it could go, and people opted to put the looming election on the back burners, if just for one day.

By the time I exited the cab, the streets were a huge party, and I posed for a picture or three as I headed over to the gig. I do Halloween big every year, but I don’t remember it being this grandiose. My cellphone informed me of a wondrous Olsen Twins party, and a haunted mansion or three urged me to stop by, but I strutted on. Two blocks from Webster Hall, the masses of ghouls and cheerleaders were marching gleefully toward the party. With $5,000 up for grabs, the best costumes in town gathered for a shot at glory and a badly needed check. The 15-foot- high werewolf with blue fur and glowing eyes won it all. The two ladies in the roller coaster costume had won my heart, but the sheer size and ambition of the wolf had the crowd cheering. It was a great party—old school fun—and I wish it could be like this every night. There was a time when it sort of was, when hours were spent picking outfits, when dressing up instead of dressing down was the order of the night.

The cabbie was spot on. This past Friday, New York was optimistic. With the election tomorrow we are all holding our breath, hoping that good will triumph over evil. We are so beat up as a nation, so embarrassed by the last eight years of fascism and abuse from our “leaders,” that the change to Obama in itself will carry us to a better place. He is someone we can believe in, while McCain and his party must be put behind us. I didn’t notice a single Bush mask, and I think this is indicative of his fate. He will retreat to a mean Texas where he will be far away from the evildoers and Democrats. So tomorrow we’ll go forth and vote, and hopefully by the night, we wont need an Elvis suit or a pirate costume to feel optimistic. Call all your friends everywhere and get them out to vote. Obama may not be perfect, but he’s perfect for me.