Really I'd like to title this post "Celebrating Halloween in a Country That Doesn't Really Celebrate Halloween" ..but that was a bit too long. But surely you must be curious about what it's like to be in a country that doesn't really get into Halloween (and spells it Hallowe'en ..like. Really, England? "we'en"?) but luckily you have me, Halloween enthusiast, here to tell you alll about it.

So, I fabricated a costume in legitimately 10 minutes because I had to work late on Halloween (because it was on a MONDAY this year.. what kind of sorcery is that. Pfff.) and I came up with the idea to be Cindy-Lou Who when I was riding the tube home. So I came up with this gem of a costume..

It actually turned out pretty awesome, I was pretty proud of myself. Now.. I know since seeing this photo you're probably saying "HOW on earth did she get her hair like that??" ..I know this because I was asked it hundreds of times by anyone who wasn't too afraid to talk to or look at me. I would probably crown it the question of the night, because seriously. Everybody. No exceptions.. Not even my roommates. Hahah. But yeah, I used a vegetable oil bottle (emptied and washed out, clearly) (but not clearly, because that would be question of the night, level 2.) and draped my long, luscious locks over it and tied it at the top. To me, it was Wacky Hair Day Fifth Grade basics.. But hey. They don't care about Halloween here, so the chances of them having Wacky Hair Days.. pfffffft. Slim to none. So anyways, moving on..

My roommates were also all dressed up.. Nicki Minaj, army chick and RyanAir flight attendant. Moments after walking outside, everyone is legitimately gaping at us. And by us, I mean mostly my hair. Going on public transport was probably the best thing we could have done because it was the most hilarious thing ever. We step on the down escalator, and the entire up escalator just turns their heads and stares. At my head. I mean, I felt like half celebrity, half Elephant Man. Even after getting on the tube and being inside the car of it, people would stop on the platforms and wait for the train to go by just so they could look.

I have realized that people just don't care if they stare shamelessly at you. People were just completely unabashed at whispering to their friend/person and then turning around and just gawking. Once we got off the tube, it was slightly better because there were more people in costumes, but 'costumes' were essentially in one of these three categories:

1. Zombie of any sort

2. Sexy ______.. Mostly something that you can put ears and a leotard on for, such as: devil, cat, animal of any sort, I don't know.

3. No costume, we don't celebrate Halloween.

So yes. That about sums up that. I got more photos taken of me/with me than I ever have before.. So to all those people with pictures of me: *winky face* *sly smile* *awkward convulsion*

(Asteriks denote me doing an action.. In case you didn't know.) (err..)

The other popular thing for people to do was to grab my hair and go "WHOA what's in there?!??" ..For future reference to guys trying to pick up a girl, that's really not the best way to go about it.. Especially since I don't really know what you'd be expecting me to say. "Oooh it's a big bottle of lube and 5 packs of condoms, and since you're the first person to ask, YOU WIN."  ...I mean, honestly. It's an empty bottle.. wooo.

My hair was a bit of a drunk person Mecca, if you will. Everyone wanted to touch it, grab it, swat it, hover their hands around it like it was a scary crystal ball.. Yeah. So basically I was the coolest person in London on Halloween. No big deal.

And that is my "Celebrating Halloween in a Country That Doesn't Really Celebrate Halloween" story. I'd highly recommend it to anyone.

Stay tuned for my Paris post later this week..

xx

So, after a few hours of researching, we thought we had found the perfect club. It was in the O2 Arena, an area known for its epic concerts, and it was a Saturday night, the favored night of the week by 98% of society due to it's strategic location between Friday and Sunday.

Clubs are a tricky thing.. especially in a city such as London. Sometimes they're fun, filled with dancing and flirting and the odd couple making out not-so-discreetly in the corner. Other times they're filled with the 25+ crowd (aka the 40-year-old+ businessman crowd..) and ripe with aforementioned awkward businessmen looking for a girl to make them feel like they're Hugh Hefner or something. (Ew, I know, but I'm just being honest.)

Anyways..

We had thought we found a great place. It was a little pricey and across town, but for four floors of house music, DJ's and themed nights we thought hey - that's okay. Look at all of these options, look at these cool pictures of people dancing, look at this nice interior design. All appears good on the homefront.

Ha! Ha! Ha! If only I had listened to the wise words of Thomas Jefferson.. "Never judge a club by it's website." But alas, continuing on...

As we walk off the tube, there's quite a large stream of people going both ways on the sidewalk - promising. That means people have acknowledged this as a place that exists... great. Better than arriving at some barren alleyway somewhere. So we walk into the O2, which is quite an impressive place. Much to my surprise there's MULTIPLE clubs here.. egads! What kind of magic is at play here?! As we walk past there's restaurants pumping music, different songs from different places every few steps.. music usually means FUN. So this is a good sign.. but alas. None of these were the club we were looking for.

Side note: the O2 is like as if the Mall of America was put inside of the Metrodome.. seriously. It has the white Dome top and has tons of shops and restaurants like MoA. ..Why yes, I am from Minnesota, why do you ask?

Regardless, as we're walking I can't help but notice that nobody else is walking this far down the hallway. Right before I start to get discouraged, I see these big metal barriers for queues with signs on them for the club.. which is all very professional-looking, but there's no line.

There stands a security guard and another guard of some sort. They ask "Do you know what night it is?" and I respond "No? Do you know what night it is?" After establishing that I truthfully don't know what night it is, they tell us that lots of people are dressed up in costumes.. things like police officers, nurses, things like that. After giving an awkward pity chuckle to try and escape this bizarre exchange of words we walk on through the barriers, wondering what exactly they were talking about.

At the end of the barriers we run into Adele!!! Not the actual Adele, of course, but she bore an uncanny resemblance and probably knew all the words to Rumor Has It. ...Just saying. But after Adele asked if we were on the guest list (obviously not..!?) we went through.

But wait - we aren't in the club yet. No, no. After navigating through two more sets of doors, a few flights of stairs and another set of doors, we hear the bass.. we've finally made it!

After our eyes adjust to the dark, it soon becomes apparent that everyone is, in fact, dressed in costume. We, in fact, are not. In fact, we seem to be the only two caucasians there.

Now, it's not like I've never seen people of a different race than me.. no. That's not it. It's just the fact that I've never really been smack dab in the middle of a Major Lazer video before. Some revelations were made in that moment by me:

1. Oh my god, I really am a white girl from rural Minnesota.
2. Oh my god, daggering is a real thing.
3. Oh my god, oh my god.
4. I hate being the only person not wearing  a costume.

So yeah. I mean, I don't really know how else to describe it except there was a guy robot-spazz dancing with the head of the statue of David on a podium. I also think we were the only two people who hadn't done ecstasy upon arrival to this place..yeeeeah... so. A very interesting night nonetheless, definitely the most "awkward white person" I've felt ever in my life.

Upon leaving, Adele looked at us very concerned and asked if everything was okay. I guess I need to work on more discreet facial expressions of "what the hell just happened to me/where was I/this isn't where I parked my car."

Until my next awkward life experience...

xx