brunobaby

My favorite part of Halloween in the Village is when the neighborhood kids go trick or treating in the little stores. The stores have designated "Trick or Treat" hours between when the two public schools, 3 and 41, dismiss the kids after the school's Halloween parties and before the big Parade begins.

The kids are usually accompanied by a parent or two, and often preschool siblings, who, overbalancing in their costumes and props, toddle into your kneecaps and have to be herded back to their guardians.

I walked down Bleeker behind a gaggle of ten year old girls who chanted "Trick or Treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat."

Then one girl, apparently the ringleader, continued, "If you don't, I don't care..." and her cohorts looked from her to each other, confused. There's a second verse?

She pulled them aside for a consultation as they continued marching.

"Trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat. If you don't, I don't care, I'll pull down your underwear!" They strode across Seventh, getting louder and more confident with each repetition. Then into a CD store, where their voices trailed off in the middle of the "feet" line as a dispassionate clerk ladled Milky Way miniatures into their outstretched bags.

Full darkness descended by six as tourists poured in, and the blocks where I buy my groceries and do my laundry became landmarks and attractions. "Oh, there's where we ate after the Parade last year." "This is where we'll meet if we get lost." A hairy-knuckled Alice in Wonderland leaned against the outside of the pizzeria, smoking a cigarette. The kids went home, and it was playtime for the adults.