How the Hurricane Ruined My Halloween

The view from my picture window yesterday morning.

On Monday night, around 8:30, I was sitting at my computer desk, writing and watching Fritz Lang’s Freudian noir update of the Bluebeard story, “Secret Beyond the Door…” (Not a horror film, by the way, despite showing up on my hunt list.) Rain water and hurricane-level winds howled outside, the dreaded “Frankenstorm” howling in my ears. About halfway through the movie, I heard two separate, distinct bangs and then… Total darkness. After waking my night-shift working roommate and calming an upset, barking dog, we assembled candles, three flashlights with dead batteries, and tried to shut down a beeping, seizing security system. After setting the situation inside the house, I peeked out the window and saw the cause of all this: Those hurricane level winds uprooted an entire, seemingly healthy tree. The tree collided with a telephone pole, pulling the cables down. The yanked cables tore our electric box from the side of the house. The tree blocked the road, trapping me inside my own dark, cold, home.

It’s now Wednesday, Halloween evening, the holiest of horror-days. I have been without electricity, heat, warm water, telephone, cable, or internet for almost three days now. The temperature inside my refrigerator exceeds the temperature in my bed room. Pumpkins sit on the front porch, uncarved, no jolly Jack o’ Lanterns in sight. Candy sits in its bowl, un-snacked, without trick ‘r treaters to raid it. My living room is dark and silent, the television off, plenty of horror films waiting but no way to watch them. This is the worst Halloween ever. To dispense with the dramatics, this is why updates have been sporadic this week.

Skeleton Stanley overlooks the chaos.

Finally, after a day, an evening, and an afternoon, the road and electric company arrived. The men have told us repeatedly that they were not informed of our situation until just today. The tree has now been cut down. The telephone cables re-hung. Because of the bureaucracies of insurance and company regulations, nobody on the team of repairers can fix our circuit box, restoring our heat and electricity. We have to call an insurance adjuster, get an appointment with an electrician, and then, maybe sometime next week, things will get back to resembling normal, minus one tree and a multitude of hours. By the way, this is the second time in two years that high winds have torn a tree down in our yard, causing an incident. After the snow last year and this fiasco, I told my roommate: “If my Halloween is ruined three years in a row by the weather, we are moving.” Agreed.

If you’re wondering how you’re reading this, I’ve been spending the nights with a relative, who is lucky enough to still have heat, electricity, cable, internet, and all the other amenities. My neighbors have been kind enough to allow us to use their showers and kitchen during this time. Content not to let a measly hurricane ruin my Halloween, I have been watching films at night. Just a few minutes ago, I walked over to both neighbors’ homes with my seasonal bowl of candy, dispensing treats to their grandchildren and other assorted guests. Reversed trick or treating, I guess you could call that. A few people have told me to be thankful that the tree didn’t strike the house, a vehicle, or a person. And, of course, I am thankful for that. We’re all very lucky no one was hurt or nothing of serious value was damaged. Still, when you spend all year planning for a month at most and a single night at least, just to have it ruined at the last minute, it’s a little hard to be overly grateful. I’ve been trying my best to carry on, hoping to complete my Universal Monster Mega-thon and sneak in a few other programs. It’ll probably take a few more days before I’m caught up and can officially close the books on Halloween 2012. I suppose that’s pretty trivial in the face of recent events. But it’s important to me.

More stuff coming soon, faithful readers, Samhain willing. I’ll see you on the other side.

The yellow caution tape is not part of the decorations.

Haunting the detached rear view mirror.