(photo: No idea who these tarts are)
This Halloween was the most memorable one since fifth grade in East Boston. That year, the most popular Halloween costume among my female classmates was “whore.” I dressed up as a hippy, as I did nearly every Halloween through the mid-90s because I lacked creativity and liked to straighten my hair. Once a year at St. Mary’s, the nuns would pull their poles out and let the students wear their Halloween costumes to school. That particular year, three of the “whores” showed up in full hooker regalia; they wore lace teddys and fishnets, one girl even had plastic handcuffs clipped to her red lace garter belt. Please note: This is fifth grade. Everyone is 10. After first period, Sister Jeremiah put an end to the pedia-sex show. She marched them off to Father O'Donovan, our alcoholic, chain-smoking priest, who drove them home in the church sedan. Yikes.
Just when we thought all was quiet. Darlene DeNublia showed up second period wearing a roach clip in her hair, having innocently mistaken the feathered clip for a hair accessory. Just when Sister Jeremiah was about to send Darlene home, a nosy substitute teacher (and crazy bitch) decided to single me out. I saw her point to me from the hallway where Sister Jeremiah was standing with a hysterical Darlene. I have no idea what she said but I assume it was about my costume invoking feelings of free love/sex, not to mention that roving band of van-driving clowns that was doling out Mickey Mouse stickers with LSD on them. Luckily, Sister Jeremiah knew I was too heavy into Snoopy to be involved in drugs and sex. She also loosened up on Darlene who was considered mildly retarded in some medical circles. We were both allowed to stay for the ripper of a Halloween party that followed, involving pizza delivered by a one-legged woman in a Darth Vadar mask and velour sweat pants.
After that year, Halloween in Eastie was pretty quiet aside from the occasional fire truck dispatched to put out a barrel fire on Constitution Beach.