A few days before Halloween, I suspect it’s going to be a pretty big holiday in Phoenix. There are the ornately decorated front yards of every house on my sister’s block, ghosts dangling from trees, webs stretched across bushes and doorbells replaced with screams. My nephew, 13, is going to be James Bond and my sister’s rented him a tuxedo. Spirit, the Halloween store we stop at on Saturday night, looks like it’s been ransacked--packaged costumes opened then resealed, cauldrons on their sides and the floor littered with white plastic rats. When we run into neighbors (which happens often in the foothills in Phoenix), they ask if we’re going to "the cul-de-sac," the designated place on the block where the parents will be setting up a pot luck buffet, folding chairs and makeshift bar starting at five o’clock. The morning of Halloween, I hear my sister end a phone calls with, "Happy Halloween!"
Before it’s dark, the neighborhood begins to swarm with fairies, ghouls, wizards with dred locks, a zombie on rollerblades, a member of the SWAT team, Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, a few American Idol contestants, a hockey player, unidentifiable creatures with weapons and blood, and a kid with shorts and an orange T-shirt that says "Generic Halloween Costume." We don't go directly to the cul-de-sace. Instead, we get some folding chairs and my sister concocts her specialty drink, the grape-tini, a grape-flavored martini. We drink (like every other adult in the area) and hand out candy from big bowls on our laps. A man wheels a cooler past the house. Every parent who comes up the walk with their kids has a cup or glass in their hand. We take a short visit to the cul-de-sac and it’s rocking. I’ve never experienced Halloween like this.
By eight-thirty, my nephew has ditched the bow-tie on his tux and announces that he’s done collecting candy and now he’s going out with his friends to scare kids. Luckily, one of his friends is dressed as Scream, because, as we point out, a guy in a rented tux is not all that scary. After successfully scaring a group of eighth-grade girls, he and his friend jump in the truck to head over to Joey’s house. Joey’s father is a Halloween nut, nuttier than all the other Halloween nuts. Joey’s father has set up his yard like a graveyard, and it’s a must-see. My sister hands out directions to a few neighbors and we make a caravan to Joey’s house.
It’s easy to find Joey’s house on the block, not only because there are cars parked all around and groups of people gathered on the sidewalk, but because it’s the only house with a lightning storm in the front yard. Booming thunder, flashing lightning and a handmade graveyard that’s good enough to be a movie set, and Joey’s Dad makes it all himself. Gravestones, skeletons, sound effects, a ghost with glowing eyes floating up and down in the second story window, an air compressor pushing a skeleton's head off his body and a tombstone that reads “Vacancy” in red neon letters. It’s done to the nines, and flawlessly, It’s amazing and scary. What’s scarier is Joey’s Dad, dressed in a long black robe and a grim reaper mask. He’s friendly and anxious to talk about this year’s latest additions. And can you blame him? He’s nothing short of an artist and this is his day.
We meet two neighbors, drinks in hand, who explain that everyone else on the block had their Halloween decorations stolen a few weeks ago. They joke that it was Joey’s Dad trying to destroy any competition. My sister hopes her Halloween decorations will be stolen so she won’t have to take them down tomorrow. We don’t chat for too long, because we hear about another must-see for the evening—a live haunted house set up in someone’s garage, and it's guaranteed to scare. My sister gets directions, we all hop back in the car and we’re on our way. Except by the time we make it to the next cul-de-sac, there’s a small group of people in front of a tarp-covered garage door, and we’re informed that the haunted house is shut down for the night. Come back next year, they say. It’ll be even scarier then. And I have no doubt that it will.
