A narrative

The day was Halloween. It  began in a rather average manner and slowly escaladed to become more and more eerie. The 5 bulky Iowa state vans careened around the corner. I woke up as my head smacked against the window as Julie abruptly halted van number one. It was a rather shabby parking situation in attempting to avoid parking over any dead bodies … and then it occurred to me, we were in a grave yard. I stepped out of the van, blinking in the searing sunlight, overwhelmed by a draft of hot, muggy air. It was a bit of a relief from the dank quarters of the body odor infested vans. Graves both old and new stretched to the farthest horizon, as far as my eye could see. Our stay at the cemetery was brief, however impacting. The sense of the gravestones was nostalgic and proud, giving us our first taste of the south. And what better place to be on Hallows Eve!

 Our next venture led us to our campsite at Homochito. You could say that putting up our tents was a fun time; that is, if you’re definition of a fun time is trying to hammer stakes into solid rocky ground right beside the road. After setting up tents, the real fun began. Costume upon costume of creativity appeared out of the woodwork…literally. Under the tight confines of our suitcases, some managed to pack their costumes, while others made theirs up the day of after a quick trip to Walmart and a thrift store. Julie fooled us all with her raven costume by buying black angel wings. She threw us all for a loop when she cut them in half to make wing-like gloves. So creative! It’s like she works at the College of Design or something.

Other creatures of the night that we saw on this eve were: