teddywolf

Halloween brought with it a pair of new activities.

The first was finally getting to Virginia where a pair of my friends (who also throw a heck of a 4th of July party) host a mini haunted house in their carport.

The scale of the production is truly impressive: they pick a new theme each year, subdivide the space with flats and drapes, and guide small groups through before handing them pre-packed baggies of treats including the book that inspired the story. Last year's visitors reported being chased by a gorilla. This year's theme - I was told much more modest than usual - was Poe's Tell Tale Heart. With the lady of the house running cues in the control room in the back, the gentleman would guide each batch over a rickety "bridge" laid down on something to make it wobbly in the driveway and into the first room. There - along with creepy Victorian decor - they would be greeted by a creeptastic projected video. Behind the door was a blue-lit spider room, and around a corner a room with another volunteer seated by a fireplace ready to confess murder and reveal a pulsing light-up heart as the beating heart sound cues grew ever louder. Thunder crack, blackout, exit light. (Groups with tiny kids and whomever requested so would get a slightly less scary version of the story.)

We arrived an hour and a half before show-time, barely in time to help add finishing touches; costumed kids started passing the street around 5:30 and were directed to return later. Once the doors opened a crew of hosts' friends managed the line; I ended up spending an hour coralling the front of the queue before handing them off to the guide. It was quite enjoyable, and I'll be trying harder to reprise the experience in future years. (I am told there were about 250 people coming through, more than half of them kids.)

We had another party to get to, this one an annual tradition of Sound Guy's, and outdoors.

I find costuming generally stressful, and this year was no exception. I did have a pair of spider-web jeans I'd been meaning to find an excuse for, so adding the rest of the spider to the long overcoat seemed like a possibility, but I spent a few days stumped as to implementation. Inspiration hit as I stared at the coat and at my theater tool bag, and I outlined a spider shape on the back of the coat with spike tape. (For the non-theatrical folks, it's the brightly colored thin cloth tape used to mark places on the stage where things go. Similar to gaffer's tape, it's both nicely adhesive and easy to peal).

While I mostly spent time talking to people I already knew, there were enough people I wanted to keep hanging out with that when Spouse was ready to depart around 1am, I secured a ride from either of two other guests who lived in our vicinity.

In another hour I regretted that decision, both my energy levels and the temperatures dropping and the fire not quite adequate for keeping up either, but both of my ride prospects were going strong.

Everyone else still present being musicians, a decision was made to move the party indoors - a notion much welcomed by me, as a couch would be comfier to curl up on than a lawn chair - and play a while.

The house having multitudes of spare instruments, I was offered my choice, and - why not - asked for a guitar. Which I've taken a month of lessons in before leaving The Old Country, tried to keep up a few years for thereafter, and have not practiced since an aborted attempt to get back into it mid-pandemic. Somehow remembering that my experience, such as it was, was entirely classical, the host issued me a nylon-stringed instrument and didn't offer a pick. It had some manner of built-in tuner, but I had no brain cells to figure out a new thing, had someone play a high E for me, and tuned by ear.

I wasn't sure what to expect - I didn't exactly know any actual pieces that other folks were likely to. What happened next was someone strummed a chord and called out, "E minor". Our harpist hostess improvised a few bars, repeated them. One of the numerous guitars harmonized with it, and another. My left hand formed the familiar configuration for the chord, my right somewhat timidly plucked a basic pattern. Then, as the harp added variations, a slightly more complex one. The sound was living and a bit unpredictable and yet comfortingly safe to experiment in. A revelation.

The tune wound down, someone led another, and another, and despite being hopelessly outclassed in skill levels, my rhythms felt as integral to the whole as the intricate melodies and clever harmonies surrounding me. Time flew and it was past 4am and time to go home... and now this is a thing I've done, and it's hard to express just how amazing it was.