Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Scary Me

I went out with a group of people this weekend to celebrate Halloween. Originally, I had no plans, and thus, no costume. I was in the middle of putting together a mediocre witch costume that I was at all happy with, when my sometimes-roommate came home to put together her outfit.

She was dressing as a Red Sox fan. No, I wasn't happy. In fact, the only thing that made me less happy than her costume was finding out that her Red Sox hat and t-shirts had been sitting in her bedroom. The room used to be my office, and is painted in Yankee pinstripes. It's a wonder lightening hasn't struck the house.


In order to restore balance to the universe and appease the baseball gods, I scrapped my witch costume and put together a Yankee costume. I called myself the Yankee Spirit.

There was a ton of glitter involved, too.
Don't judge too harshly; I was doing it for the greater good.
If you follow me on twitter, you know it turned out to be a pretty scary costume - since my group of friends decided we'd go to dinner and then to a bar in Bennington, VT. There I was, dressed as a Yankee fan in the heart of New England - otherwise known as Red Sox Nation. Awesome.

My friends were all worried I would be beat up or stalked in the ladies room. In the restaurant, a bunch of fans did laugh, reminding me the Yankees weren't playing that night. (You're all class, Red Sox Nation.) I politely reminded them that, since October started, the only balls the Red Sox have been hitting are made by Titleist.

Game. Over.

In the bar, one (likely drunk) guy growled at me, "Yankee fan, huh?" while trying to stop me from passing to get to the restroom. I guess he thought he was all tough, dressed like a pirate and picking on a single girl, who is all of 5'2" in heels. Way to impress, my friend. Of course, I turned tail and ran away...wait, no I didn't. Let me think...did I beg for forgiveness, or bat my eyelashes and flirt my way out of the situation? Nope, that doesn't sound right, either.


Now I remember! I glared and pushed past him, reminding him who bested who this year. (A word to drinkers: sober people can stand their ground much better, no matter how bad their knees or how high their heels.) He stared at me with a stunned look - and walked away. Neither he, nor any other Red Sox fans bothered me the rest of the night.

The lesson here? Just because a girl carries herself like a lady, can be cute without being slutty, is quiet and *gasp* not a drunken mess doesn't make her a push over. Please make a note of it.

What was your scariest costume ever?

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