Confessions of a 21-year-old trick-or-treater

Out of all the seasons in the year, summer is a surprisingly close second to the fall as one of my favorites. Despite the start of school, autumn has always managed to turn me into a giddy little girl – mainly because it means my birthday is just around the corner (Nov. 17 everyone, mark your calendars).

But I imagine, even without the wonderful prospect of birthday gifts or the extravagant Thanksgiving feast November brings, I would still love autumn simply because it boasts the one day where kids can take their dentist’s advice and say, “Screw you, I’m gonna eat as much candy as I want.”

What am I talking about? All Hallows’ Eve, of course.

Sadly, however, as you get older, society tries to convince you that “you’re too old to trick-or-treat.”

In fact, I vividly remember one of my former college teachers scoffing at me when he overheard my plans for Halloween my junior year. Nevertheless, I strolled around my neighborhood in a pirate’s outfit with a pillow case in hand. Hours later, I arrived home ecstatic as I poured the contents of my nearly-full pillow case on the counter.

Sure, it was just weeks before my 21st birthday, but it wasn’t like the neighborhood was carding.

Now this Halloween, as I embark on my 22nd year, I’m planning to head out on yet another mission to collect as much candy as my Felix the Cat pillowcase can handle – and I figure I’m going to do so until I finally get turned away by some party-pooper.

Though I’m not quite sure what outfit I’ll wear – I’m battling between going as as a skankified Minnie Mouse (just to get on Emily Rancer’s nerves) or an unsexy but mouth watering beer can (as suggested by Karen Velie in Monday’s issue of the Daily) – I definitely know knocking on doors and reciting “Trick-or-Treat” numerous times will be among the many things I do Halloween night.

So, unlike many typical college kids who’ll end up using Halloween as another excuse to get wretchedly drunk, you won’t find me hunched over a porcelain throne.

Instead, you’ll probably hear me complaining of a belly ache from devouring way too many Kit Kats and M&M’s.