22 hours, part II

6 am: Alarm goes off, hit snooze twice.

7:20 am: Walk past police cleaning up a nasty car crash on my way to bus stop.

7:35 am: Board 740 bus heading west.
Costumes on the bus:
1 vampire
1 Broadway dancer (in a dry cleaning bag)

8:23 am: Step off bus in West LA.

8:37 am: In a doctor’s costume at my desk with Aireborne in a cup of hot water.

11:10 am: Receive an email that says my paper’s accepted to a conference in Phoenix in February.

12:37 pm: Serve my favorite kale salad at office Halloween party luncheon.

6:07 pm: Say goodbye to colleagues and stop in kitchen to grab my leftover kale and chat in Spanish with the cleaning woman who insists I'm blonde. I think about what I’ll be wearing later.

6:18 pm: Run to catch 704 heading east. Because of the West Hollywood street fair, the bus has to take a detour down Robertson to Beverly and then back up to Santa Monica via Fairfax.
Costumes on the bus:
1 gypsy
2 devils
1 unidentified bat antenna person
1 rabbit
1 Earl Hickey
1 green bean
1 Marx glasses with non costume mullet
1 pumpkin
1 fake eyebrows and moustache
1 Bob Dylan
1 Joan Baez
1 Carebear
1 Dorothy Gale

7:10 pm: I help one of the devils find her stop. She complains about how rude LA people are and disembarks at Santa Monica and Vermont.

7:14 pm: Step off the bus and walk home, past some teenagers dressed as witches and goblins. No sign of the crash at that intersection; it's as if nothing ever happened.

8:16 pm: My costume transformation into Dr. Barbie is complete, including blonde wig, white lab coat, pink stethoscope and surgical mask.





9:18 pm: Enter El Rey in costume. There’s a Jimi Hendrix standing outside near the ropes. I planned ahead and took the expensive pen I usually carry out of my purse so that it’s not taken away from me at security as it always is at this place. Head into the theatre and the Black Angels are already playing. I affirm this is one of my favorite bands. I stand next to two guys also in doctor costumes. They say they’re plastic surgeons and I point to the Barbie nametag on my coat. They laugh. As Roky Erickson is playing a short woman standing beside me grabs me around the waist and rubs the top of my head affectionately. After the encore, I split as fast as I can to beat traffic.

12:19 am: Enter party up in Nichols Canyon. There’s a guy sitting outside on a retaining wall vomiting and a Dial-a-Ride in the street out front. The invite had said no one would be let in after midnight, but another guy in a doctor’s costume at the gate tells me he doesn’t live there and welcomes me into the garden area. The place is crowded, with many girls in skimpy costumes. I find my friend who’s gotten her beaded purse stuck in her fishnets. A guy dressed as Michael Phelps untangles it. A man with fake breasts asks me for a mammogram.

1:02 am: I see Lance Bass in the crowd in the outdoor area. He’s dressed in a graduation cap and gown. Not sure it’s him but the sighting is later confirmed.

1:46 am: Against my better judgment, I play a game of Twister and then sing Pat Benatar karaoke.

2:28 am: Leave the party, heading east. Get stuck in traffic on Hollywood boulevard.

3:30 am: Arrive home and snack on leftover kale salad. Put my wig back into the closet until next year.

4:14 am: Glance at the clock as I turn off the lamp on my bedside table. I think about my morning yoga class, the farmer’s market and the potluck I’m going to tomorrow – and look forward to another full day in LA.