It was seriously creepy AF.

As some of you might know from previous posts, I went to college in Boston. I loved the Northeast. One of the biggest differences from the Midwest was that everything was only a short drive away.

In October of 1994, a few of us decided to make one of those short drives and spend Halloween in Salem, Massachusetts. Yes…THAT Salem, Massachusetts. Home of the infamous Salem Witch Trials in the 1690s. Not a highlight of our country’s history, that’s for sure.

We showed up. Parked. And started walking around. It was midday and there was a lot of Halloween festivities going on. It was weird, but pretty fun, I guess. Kids dressed up as Power Rangers running around and stuff.

But then the sun started to set and we all started getting a weird feeling. It’s hard to explain. It was eerie. Almost ominous. There we were. Right in the middle of the town square where, 300 years earlier, real things happened. Scary, horrible, terrifying things.

But now, on that same spot, two dudes dressed up like Wayne and Garth from Wayne’s World were walking around high-fiving strangers. It didn’t feel right. The sunset was creepy. The wind blowing through the town was creepy. The whole thing started feeling surreal.

The parade of witches didn’t help.

I don’t mean like green-paint-on-the-face costume witches screaming “I’ll get you, my pretty!” I mean actual REAL witches, that practiced witchcraft and shit. Believe in that stuff or not, when it’s Halloween and you’re in the town square of Salem, Massachusetts…that shit is not cool.

We decided to leave and get back to Boston, where the normalcy of sharing a dumpy, rat-infested house would provide comfort. But as we left, we saw a tarot card reading place. $10. Yeah…what the heck. It’s Halloween and I still need to finish my illegally purchased beer.

Joe went first. Mark and I listened in from behind the tapestry curtain thing. It was super lame. Joe asked questions about grad school and stuff. The tarot card reader would answer questions and that’s it. Lasted 5 minutes. Yawn.

Mark was next. Joe and I listened in from the same spot. Meh. Again…Mark asked questions, tarot guy would answer. 5 minutes. This tarot reader was phoning it in.

Then it was my turn. I had a different reader. He asked me to shuffle the deck. I knew Mark and Joe were listening in so I started chatting my guy up. How long have you been reading tarot cards? What got you interested in it? Should I be scared? Do you live near here? That kind of thing.

He was nice. He asked me to stop shuffling and flip over a card.

Bam. Death card. Right out of the gates.

“Oh goddammit. Are you f***ing kidding me?”

I said it a little too loudly. He told me to calm down and that it wasn’t about death, but more about a significant change that was coming soon. Whatever. I didn’t feel better.

I continued to flip over tarot cards for the next 20 minutes or so, each one with a prediction and follow-up question from my tarot card reader. He named friends I had with unconventional names. He predicted that I would injure my leg in the next month or so (yep, I did). He predicted that I would get a gift of money from an older female (yep, my sister later that year). He specifically told me, at all costs, to not get into any car that was any shade of blue.

The whole experience got super weird in a hurry. It wasn’t fun anymore. Mark’s and Joe’s seemed kitschy and funny – like Wayne and Garth walking around town. Mine seemed real and ominous – like what had happened 300 years prior.

When we were done, I think I managed to mumble out a “thanks” as I got up to leave. I walked through the tapestry and saw Mark and Joe staring at me stone-faced.

I stared back and then said, “Yeah, let’s get the f**k out of here. Now.”

We tried to think about how we could explain this to friends that weren’t with us, but we knew we could never do it justice. You just had to be there. Only Mark, Joe, and I will really ever know how strange it all was.

We were prepared for a silent ride home. Joe called “shotgun” so he jumped in front. Mark was driving. I opened the back door and got into Mark’s blue Dodge…

…Oh goddammit.

. . . . .

I think about that Halloween tarot card reading every once in a while because it made me feel a combination of helpless, freaked out, scared, and confused. I didn’t like it. But now, as an entrepreneur, helpless/freaked out/scared/confused is pretty much the daily standard, and it’s OK.

Every year, we dress up in costume and celebrate fear. We knock on strangers’ doors ready to tell a joke for some candy. We decorate our homes. We walk around in the dark of night. All in the celebration of fear.

For that one day, we go find fear, look it in the face, and laugh at it.

Why can’t we do this all the time?

Facing fears is hard, that’s for sure, but I can’t help to notice that we all do OK when it becomes a habit on the last day of October. I know, I know…asking your neighbors for candy on any of the other 364 days becomes less “trick-or-treat” and more “begging for food,” but aside from the candy and costumes, what if celebrating fear was just something that you’re supposed to do?

#bewhatyoumake