Halloween is the best. I’ll refrain from quoting Mean Girls here, but the free pass to do the absolute most is not something I’ll pass up. I’ll paint my face, tease my hair, glue on the longest lashes available, and freeze my cheeks off in the smallest outfit I can squeeze my body into. I started planning my outfit in very early July. Halloween isn’t just a joke. Throwing together an outfit last-minute is not an option. It requires extensive planning to ensure the perfect execution of original and hot. No cats, no cops, no GD mermaids. You have to stand out in every way possible. So when my friend suggested we all dress up as aliens for a bar crawl, I was excited. She sent us a screenshot of some girls on Pinterest, so I knew it had been done before, but we could make it our own. This decision became the complete opposite of a Christmas miracle. It was a Halloween nightmare.
By the time the Thursday of Halloweekend rolled around, I couldn’t wait to check out everyone’s costumes. As much as I love to dress up myself, I also love seeing what everyone comes up with. I got ready about two hours early as usual, so I occupied myself with scrolling through social media. A mermaid, of course. A couple dressed as a dalmatian and firefighter, fine. An alien, uh oh. A cereal killer, punny. A dead girl, cool. Another alien, fuck. Another alien, is this a joke? A girl in lingerie and a Purge mask, for some reason. Another alien, this has to be a bad dream. Each one had a slightly different look, swapped out green for silver, or buns for antennae, but they were all aliens. How could this be happening? Was I…basic?
Frantically, I texted my friends, trying to change the plans. What else could we be that was green? We hadn’t cut the shirts yet, and we had time to return them. No one budged. I took a dramatic deep breath and decided to face the problem head on. We can’t control other girls’ costumes, but we could control our own. We cut our shirts in a completely different way, styled our hair differently, and hoped for the best.
By the time we got to the bar crawl, the street was flooded with people in costume. A part of me felt like I was a kid trick or treating again, except I was getting drunk instead of sugar high. I quickly scanned the crowd and saw no other alien lifeforms. Maybe everyone already used their alien costumes. The first bar we walked into, we got our drinks and went upstairs to find three girls in our sorority wearing the same exact shirt and makeup. Exactly the fucking same. How mortifying. Everyone was staring. The only thing we could do was laugh it off. The jeering looks I felt from everyone judging our basic outfits was demoralizing. This isn’t me. I’m not one of those girls. I wear clever costumes. The room was spinning. We all took a picture together, but I could barely see straight.
The rest of the night, I drank to forget what I was wearing. I had a great time dancing with my friends, but as soon as I made eye contact with another alien, which was approximately every 11 minutes, I was reminded of the grave mistake I had made. I posted a picture of us on Instagram, but I couldn’t bring myself to make a punny caption about my friends being “out of this world” or having a “stellar” time. Yes, it is true that this time next weekend I will be wearing an outfit similar to every single girl in the bar. But a mistake of this basic caliber will never be made again. You can b-E.T. on that..