The Biggest Doofus At The Halloween Party
Was it me? JJ Boy? Or the man who fell to earth?
In case you were unaware, Halloween is huge in Los Angeles.
This city of unhinged artists enjoys dressing up in costumes, no matter the time or day. We want performance. We want to party. We want drama. We want chaos. We live in Los Angeles for a reason.
This year, a young actor and his model wife hosted an outdoor Halloween party at their Hollywood Hills home for two hundred of their close friends.
I've brought my friend Gemma, who sports a lanyard around her neck that reads:
“I’ll be your experiment.”
“But how do I explain my costume?” She asks, throwing her dark hair back, sipping from the beaker full of vodka and green juice she brought as prop and “health” fuel.
”Your lanyard literally says you’ll be someone’s experiment.” I've dressed up as Mary from the movie Party Girl. No one at this party will recognize me because they're all under thirty.
Gemma is concerned. ”Is my costume clear enough?”
”The lanyard? Look. If you hit on a woman and she doesn't get it, I'll be your wingman and announce your horniness.”
Gemma is eager to make out with someone here, and I understand her desire—who doesn't want to make out all the time? Fuck alcohol, hormones are the strongest drug.
At that moment, a tall body presses firmly against my back at the bar. Gemma, noticing the person behind me, leans in to my face and whispers, "The hottest guy at this party is behind you."
"Is he the one touching my back?”
”Yes.”
I lean in and rest my back against this man. I put my weight on him. I don’t know who he is or what he looks like, but I am leaning on him as though I am his traditional housewife of ten years. It feels too good. It’s drugs.
”Is this illegal? Is what I’m doing illegal?” I ask Gemma, leaning harder into the guy leaning into me.
“WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DRINK?” The bartender yells so loudly that I reactively turn away from the phantom hot man, gesture to Gemma, and respond, "She would like a tequila soda."
I turn to my left and catch a glimpse of the most attractive man I've never married. I don't recognize him which makes no sense because he should be famous in Los Angeles with this face.
He looks like the thirty-year-old love child of Josh Harnett and Marlon Brando, the beauty is undeniable. I can’t tell if he’s in a costume or regular clothes. I call him JJ Boy.
JJ Boy and I lock eyes as I accept the drink from the bartender and hand it over to Gemma. Nothing happens in this look. I am not his wife. I ask Gemma, “You want to dance?”
She nods.
Below the party visibility line, I reach my leg back to touch JJ Boy's leg one last time. Like an iPhone charging, my knee presses against his calf, giving me the strength to move to the dance floor.
Gemma and I dance to Heads Will Roll beside a woman dressed like a mushroom and a man dressed as a mail carrier.
I compliment the woman’s makeup and costume. The mail carrier reaches into his sack and passes me a letter.
“Doofus?”
”Yeah,” he says, “don’t thank me; I just make the deliveries.”
It’s admirable, cruel, and hilarious.
Suddenly the music stops. I immediately notice it, but most people continue to move, dance, and shout without any noticeable pause. Interestingly, no one groans or yells, "Where's the music?!" as they do in movies.
I overhear someone yell, “THEY ARE TOWING CARS. MOVE YOUR CAR IF YOU BROUGHT ONE!”
THEN.
SCREAMS TO MY RIGHT.
My head snaps around to witness a man falling to the concrete dance floor. When I say he fell? I mean, it was one of those falls that makes your stomach turn. Fast. Heavy. Violent. It was as though he was thrown from the sky.
Those videos you might accidentally see online of people having heart attacks or strokes and dropping hard? Like a death fall? It was one of those. Onto concrete.
On his way down, he takes out Marie Antoinette.
Marie Antionette also goes down hard.
”Someone fell.” I say, stupidly, to Gemma, and beside me, my iPhone charger JJ Boy appears, close to the chaos, “Holy shit.” He says to himself.
”HE’S DEAD! CALL 911!!” Two women dressed as sexy Mario and Luigi shout, and the screaming finally begins.