With hauntings for humans hung all over area nightclubs, can Halloween be far behind?

Whether displayed on darkened windows, ceilings or bathroom doors, or even guarding the ATM machine, club proprietors hope that all patrons will hail the monsters of All Hallows Eve, as their staffs decorate with the creatures to get ready for one of their hottest nights.
Here are examples of what you already can see at various venues:

— Halloween goes classic Hollywood at Dick’s Bar and Grill, with a nearly lifesize plastic figure of Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz plastered on a window, among other caricatures and spider webs. Meanwhile, at the Green Mill, a skull draped up high over a spider web looked much like The Great and Powerful Oz himself. He probably will have dominion over any badly behaving patrons.
— Also seen around area nightclubs are vintage tin-type photos like those from a previous century, which as you pass-by and change the angle of viewing have eyes that roll back and produce a zombie — in one case positioned just a few feet away from a specially designated “zombie crossing zone,” which is just another few feet from a particular kind of fine-boned skeleton — not too tall or too small. Dozens of the latter hang from the ceiling at Dick’s, and they can be seen in smaller numbers elsewhere. The skeletons are in exactly the same style I’ve put on my gently sloped Halloween roof for years.
— On one area bathroom door, there is a sexy vampire ready to suck the life out of you. On another venue’s bathroom door, there is the other end of the hottie spectrum, an old hag ready to, literally, suck the life out of you in a less enjoyable way. (Interestingly, on the bathroom door opposite that first vampire is a mummy which is, obviously, dead),
— All around town are moss-like thicknesses of spider webs, with plastic spiders attached. At the Village Inn in North Hudson, the webs are atop the ATM machine, with the arachnids placed just to the side, in case a cash crunch bites you.
— Also at The Village, a ghost hanging from high over the far-end bar rail is in position to drag its “feet” on your head as you order. Across the way are all kinds of “dead end” signs wrapped around a thick pillar … well, I guess you might end up dead if you run into it hard. Back at Dick’s, there was a similar cautionary police line that sported striking snakes and … mice? Is that vermin actually verbatim?
— On consecutive days and nights, you could see a cashier witch sporting a pointed black hat — with plenty of orange and black feathers. For as it says on the marquee outside Historic Casanova Liquors, “We don’t have cashiers, we have spirit guides.”
— And then there’s the foot-wide orange spider at Dick’s that started living out the season’s activity by crawling downward on a door. Then it gave up the ghost, resting in peace instead. As seen hanging from the ceiling, the joint is crawling with such creatures.
— Is it simply a typo or, to reference a band that befits the coming holiday, an ode to Type O Negative? While you won’t exactly drink blood, signs seen at Dick’s list Schell Oktoberfest as the beer of the month, but say the hard-to-beat special is only “vaild” through 10 p.m. One sign added the beer is spelled Shell — like some of the popular fish they serve. Pardon an additional European reference, but with Halloween fast approaching, that first typo reminds one of Val the Impaler.
Adding to this, a band named Roughhouse that has played a lot locally, especially at the Willow River Saloon in Burkhardt, boasts a member who was with a hard-core metal outfit called Impaler a couple of decades back. Alas, they will not play The Willow on Halloween weekend, although they were there earlier in October, but acts that will perform amongst the cowboy silhouette decor include the Country Outlaws on Friday evening and, much in the same vein, Strangers on Saturday.
— Talk about going from bad to worse, in the style of an old Iron Maiden song, The Number of the Beast, written about a fateful and horrific encounter with the Devil while on an evening stroll. Not to say that a traffic stop is quite that bad, but it can seem like, say, hell on wheels compared to more pleasant trips. There was, one October, an unlucky motorist stopped by the cops on the Lake Mallalieu bridge, and bearing a license number recalling that song that started with 666. Damn the luck! Hope your’s is better when you check out the sights on or before All Hallows Eve.

Share the Post:

Related Posts

My mom has told me not to be a potty mouth when I write, as she certainly would not appreciate hardly any of the standup humor on say, Comedy Central Radio. SNL maybe. But after 11:30 p.m. … But there comes a time where a man must make a stand. And for this jokester, it was now when he had to choose whether to pass on the opportunity that would otherwise bite him in the butt, for in front of and behind him is the Mother Lode. Or should I say load. Or “Mothers” of Invention. Heh heh, heh heh, Butthead, look...
So the wall is down. Of letters, that is. Not down by Mexico. Cemented into the concrete. Of the Kennedy Center. Where music has sat. (Near where a now defunct wrestling arena rusts in peace. Or a bloodied White House lawn. With leftover paper cups and plates, more likely bowls and small utensils, anyone?) Or more ornate than inside? A tarp the size of Pennsylvania, the predominant battle state, covers workers as they chip. So geez, how big are the letters? Four times 50 living workers high? But now none remain, or so we are told by flunkies. Or is...
A few years back, I wrote an article about Hudson Deacon Tom Kroll and how he did so many extra dutiful tasks, his living out the Gospels tirelessly, when his wife was ill, in addition to his regular job. I was inspired at the time to pen this, about my own lovely, disabled wife — we were separated briefly but now back together with our 40th anniversary this month, as wholehearted caregiving has many strains — and how an atypical view of standard roles, out of necessity, made things work, as far as our approach to work and home that’s...
What do fishing, maybe in the dark, thus a Texas ranch, snakes of various types and do they come or stay out after dusk, eating either and only fine food or snacks, and a game of cards — likely just one each — have in common. And no strippers or Chippendales. And an only half or quarter, not full Monty. (Who is Monty anyway?) Or cowboy or cowgirl hats. Although there was some dress-up. More Barbie than boots on, I think. It’s an easy answer, connected and conflicting, but not in all or dirty ways, bachelor and bachelorette parties. One of each...
It was clear to me at the most recent Jeff Loven music show in Hudson, for Memorial Day weekend, that there has been a changing of the guard. The sword has been passed. New blood, like Yungblud, has been brought in. And, I must say, loyalty — amongst the devotees who travel frequently and all across the two-state area to virtually all of Jeff’s shows — has been rewarded. They are the royalty, in what just makes good business sense that I can appreciate. In a significant but not unprecedented altering of course, I was not one of those asked...
Trial by fire. My broiling heart in my efficiency flat still beats a bit, in concern over those boiling over in worse apartments in a Chicago tenancy, or on an ocean island instantly-burn-your-feet beach or dessert, or forced to endure ice baths just to keep cool — or simply be offered no way to maintain an ice-dripping body other than also read a non-cookbook at the library, or select not a big steak you can’t afford but a 73/27 burger from a freezer and slap it on your forehead. Just not too hard. All these things are ones where you especially today either burn or...
Scroll to Top