My costume had some problems. First off, I am not 72 years old, which puts me at a disadvantage when I attempt to masquerade as Republican presidential candidate John McCain.

Second off, I am losing my hair. I can feel it thinning, but thank God I’m no where near McCain’s level of hair loss.

So, I need to look formal and old, while balding and need to keep my arms low and face constantly smiling as if I had just found dad’s big box of Playboys.

This was going to be tough. A mask doesn’t work because it’s too hard to drink a beer at the underage drinking parties I knew I would be attending. Face make-up was a maybe, and I disregarded my friend’s advice on the face bandage to replicate skin cancer, so I decided to half-ass it and do nothing.

The hair was a different story.

Next Halloween, when you’re looking for that perfect wig, make sure you take the time to remove the wig from the package and see if it actually looks like the freaking picture. I say this because the comb-over wig I bought was God-awful. It was gray and likely made from rat hair. The plastic skull cap had the hair glued to it, and by now, some 18-year-old girl with a fake ID, who drinks on Sundays and Mondays, is wearing a beer-covered comb-over wig she found on the floor of the Brewhouse.

Confused? So was I, but the point is I threw the rat wig on the floor at the last bar I was at.

Why?

Because of all the things I was going for, as I walked the streets of Kent saying “my friends,” I did something I wasn’t supposed to do.

Because I was wearing a hat- I thought it would hide my hair that looked nothing like the Arizona senator’s, and make me look like McCain at 11:50 p.m. Nov. 4, when he realizes that the more experienced person just lost to the least experienced person (that’s another column).

Instead, the nasty-haired wig, combined with the non-fitted, non-sports-theme hat and my glasses I wear- because I hate contacts- had turned me into the exact opposite person I was trying to imitate.

I had become Michael Moore.

Maybe it’s time to lose weight and get contacts and never buy rat-hair wigs again.

However, the night wasn’t a total loss after that misconception. I got to thinking, and I realized: I have finally done all I could at a Kent State Halloween. I’ve gone as a Blues Brother, which every male college student needs to do at least once. I’ve gone as a Soprano-style gangster, John McEnroe and Hank Williams Jr. I’ve been to Kent State’s Halloween. I’ve been to Cincinnati’s and Ohio State’s as well. And here are my final thoughts on the college drinking tradition that is Halloween:

1. As good as candy is, beer is much better. When you get to our age, beer is liquid gold, unless that beer is spilled on your outfit. Then you go from a believable Amy Winehouse to a really believable Amy Winehouse.

2. Most guys spend very little time on their costumes compared to girls. The perfect example of this was at the bar formerly known as Glory Days on Saturday. The girl is wearing a skirt she probably purchased at a high-end store, in a high-end mall. She is the mad-hatter from Alice in Wonderland, and she decorated her hat by hand. She is cute after spending at least two weeks on her costume.

The guy she is talking to is wearing a Garth Brooks shirt circa 1995. He has jeans with holes in them, a bandanna around his neck, cowboy boots and a cheap cowboy hat that likely was lying next to my $9 rat wig at the Halloween Explosion store earlier that day. He was Garth Brooks. He probably spent five minutes on the outfit.

3. The fights. Halloween is the only time you’ll really want to watch “Freddy vs. Jason.” One person is way drunker then the other drunk guy (or girl), and they are usually wearing some testosterone-inspired costume, such as a gladiator or firefighter. However, the most entertaining fights occur when a girl dressed up like an angel fights another girl dressed up like a devil. Ah, religion: You’ve got to love it.

4. Be original. The most simple and thought-provoking costume I saw Saturday came outside the Venice Cafe when I saw a friend that graduated last spring. He was wearing a sport coat and red sweatshirt. Then I saw his buttons. They read “Satan rocks,” and “Devil No. 1” I asked him who he was, and he said a devil’s advocate. These are the kids that graduate on time or early.

5. The skirts. It could be -78 degrees Fahrenheit outside, and the skirts will still be short, revealing and eye-catching. Any girl that believes I’m being a chauvinist pig for looking at the skirts probably had a costume titled “nun-slut.”

So here’s my final adieu to Halloween. I’ll miss being a college student in late October. I’ll miss being a part of the misconceptions. I’ll miss the one night when girls dress up like guys and guys dress up like grandmothers. I’ll miss the night when a guy in drag can make out with his girlfriend and it’s socially acceptable in all societies, even Alabama. Yes, I’ll miss it, but then again, if I get my college degree, then I get a job, which means I can shop at the high-end Halloween stores where there are no rat-hair wigs.

Brock Harrington is a senior newspaper journalism major and sports editor of the Daily Kent Stater. Contact him at [email protected].