There was a chill in the air, this past All Hallows’ Eve when my friends and I boarded the commuter rail to Salem. Yes, the witch-trail Salem, also the party town Salem for hoards of ghouls and gals that flooded the streets in festive attire.
We inhaled the music and the scene.
After a brisk walk, we stumbled onto a carnival, beckoned by the electric lights of the Ferris Wheel.
With a few magical tickets, we climbed into a mechanical menace. While my friends laughed heartily, I gripped the safety bar in-front of me for dear life. I didn’t know why I decided to ride that ride. Roller coasters terrified me. Momentarily bewitched by the ambiance, I lost reason, and suffered the next eternity screaming at every momentary acceleration. It was fun, but TERRIFYING.
The rest of the night flew by super fast. We stopped by a quaint hotdog vendor and gawked at the vast variety of edible awesomeness. We greeted a man who wore a Sleep No More mask. We saw awesome fireworks in the distance, awkwardly inapropos for Halloween, but nevertheless festive.
The ride home was filled with loud and people hilariously singing and making general ruckus. It was definitely a lot of fun. Definitely not as spooky as I’d imagined, but still awesome was this Salem, our town of Halloween.