It was a dark, and foggy night.  The leaves scraped the Tacoma concrete, forced on their way by the wind as a crescent moon hung low and golden in the sky.

Werewolves, ghouls, and the undead were less bountiful on Saturday than the scantily clad French Maids (this year’s hot pick outfit) and while Milli (or was it Vanilli?) from Just Dirt entertained a crowd at the Swiss Pub, Kiss was on hand, not as entertainment, but certainly entertaining in their handcrafted vests and platform footwear.

As the night progressed, Little-but-very-tall Red Riding Hood became progressively wasted, and was helped out by smoking Merlin. Strawberry not-so-Shortcake and a bevy of other gals with great legs in high heels brought forth moans of ecstasy from at least one man at a table by the front doors, who appeared to be on a rapid downward spiral toward incomprehension. I thought the three firemen walking through the Swiss purposefully looked legitimately attired, and in point of fact, they, like the policemen in front of the Swiss, were there on official business, unlike the policewoman in the “TWAT” hat. Marie Antoinette and Little-but-very- well-endowed Bo Peep made a showing, and while The Keg was gone for the evening, I think the mammogram man might have made a play for Bo.  I’m not certain, as I didn’t see him pushing his “free mammogram, press here” box toward the pair.

Special thanks to Gerry Collen for capturing the following shots at the Swiss Pub.

While The Swiss had the liveliest of the Halloween gatherings that I witnessed on Saturday, that party wasn’t the only game in Tacoma.

Syren Lounge appeared to be on light and kicking it, with French maids and taxis aplenty, and three other hall parties spewed smoking revelers out of their doors. 

While enjoying some creativity-with-sharp-implements in action at the pumpkin carving gig at the Spar, I ran into a dimpled clown and gilded Cleopatra. I was invited to a house party, but somehow managed to lose the truck I was following out.  I was feeling a bit under dressed, anyway, fearing my “incognito Volcano scribe” outfit might be a bit too subtle for most.   

So then I was off to Magoos, where I found a table of ghouls looking dejected into their beers. 
I decided to head out to my own version of home-away-from-home-on-evenings-out and ended my evening on a mellow note at Tempest Lounge, tempted by the new menu and the “Pink Pussycat.” It’s a drink, sort of like the Monsoon Room’s Boom Boom Room â€" simply put, gin and grapefruit juice with just a hint of pineapple loveliness. Thanks Larry!

And then, as I went home escorted by the watchful moon, fatigued by all I had witnessed, I realized the time was fully one hour earlier than it should have been: Fall forward and into bed. â€" Jessica Corey Butler