 Halloween is a Religion in San Francisco.
We hit the Castro first. Men in sequins and lace tottered past on heels, tipsy and coquettish, outnumbered by an entourage of tourists with cameras. It was an extended Kodak moment.
The CEO of a certain biotech company went overboard on the Mad Scientist routine. He filled a syringe with his own blood, squirted it up and down his lab coat, hung it from his pocket. "Look, it's clotting!" he laughed. A woman with cotton balls pasted over her body danced by. "What are you?" She replied, "Partly cloudy with a chance of rain," pulled out a water gun and squirted me. Uma Thurman sported a syringe in her breast, and danced like a wildwoman.
A pregnant "Pope Joan" told me the story of Pope John the 8th, who was was secretly a woman. During a religious ceremony she collapsed on the floor, in labor with a stillborn child. After giving birth, she was rent asunder by the madding crowd, enraged to discover that their holiest of holies was a woman.
70s outfits were epidemic this year: Wide polyester lapels and gold chains and sideburns. These guys simply reached into the closet and dusted off some oldies, like the hippie outfits popular in the 80s. In the year 2525 (if man is still alive) we'll be sporting our 90s wear on Halloween.
Don't toss out your Dockers.
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