The Rural Banter

Author: MATT KUNZWEILER

At the Saturday night Halloween party in Johnson, there was a large tangled mass of glow rings hanging from strings above the pit where costumed drunks danced to the beat of a costumed jam band. All night, partygoers on the mezzanine had been reaching out over the railing and unfastening individual glow rings from the tangle that looked like the world's tackiest chandelier. Slowly, the multicolored light source overhead decreased in size and intensity as the pit became speckled by more and more neon rings, which encircled half the necks on the dance floor. Sometime past midnight, one of the strings suspending the giant glowing wad broke in the hands of a human hamburger, shifting the chandelier to a spot right against the railing, making for easy picking.

I already had a glow ring. But I wanted another, so I chased my crazy dream and walked over the tangle, and as I reached out a girl took hold of my shoulder and asked me what I thought I was doing. I pointed at the mass. It was obvious enough.

"Someone worked long and hard to make that," she said. It looked like a neon hairball.

"Seriously?"

She pointed at my neck. "And you already have one."

"Some people have several." A six-foot-three ballerina with hairy legs and an exposed beer belly walked by and whooped randomly. I pointed at the stranger, "This is for my friend." She didn't bother to look. "And besides," I continued, "the party will be over soon and these will still be glowing, but no one will be here to appreciate them," I said, more or less.

"How about you leave it alone," she retorted. Then I waited for her to say that she had helped decorate for the party and that my compliance would be appreciated - or that she was kidding. But she said nothing and held her ground, leading me to think she was just some person frivolously defending the glow rings from being enjoyed as their instructions recommend. I noticed she was staring at me.

Halloween is about shenanigans and ghoulishness, not awkwardness. She was denigrating my favorite holiday. I had to take a stand.

As I reached out to grab a glow ring, she literally fought against my right to party, slapping the back of my hand with the vengefulness of a 19th century schoolmarm. It almost kinda hurt. I retracted my hand, turned and stared at her with eyes that said, "That's an expellable offense." But I was wearing a really silly hat, so I probably didn't look angry. But I was. I was angry in a big conical hat.

Instead of sinking to her level and slapping the back of her hand, I took the high road and tried again for a glow ring - this time without incurring abuse. I smiled and left the scene with a second glow ring in my possession. I felt utterly elated. But very soon - as with any cheap party favor - the novelty wore off.