Last night I left the house and went to see Rocky Horror at the Colony on Lincoln Road. This is a big deal for me, as I have been struggling with some wholly irrational fears for quite a while, and leaving my home and possessions unattended on Hallowe'en was extraordinarily difficult. I owe a debt of gratitude to my friends — you know who you are — for providing me with the incentive and support I needed to enable me to turn the key and walk away for a few hours.

As far as RHPS goes, here are three observations. First, I was astounded to realize that it has been at least twenty or twenty-five years since I have seen it, and yet I could still recite all the dialogue by heart. Second, it really is a funny movie, even without the audience participation, but it is even funnier when the audience is primarily drag queens. Third, there were people in attendance who were still peeing in their Pampers the last time I saw the movie. (Okay, this being Hallowe'en on South Beach, some were probably peeing in their Pampers last night, too.)

Once the film ended we decided to go for a stroll on Lincoln and watch the freak show. Unfortunately happy strolling was not an option; as we left the theater we were swept along on a time of flamboyant sexual expression. There were more people than I can possibly make you understand, even with photographic evidence, and they were all crowded together in the narrow space between the storefronts and the restaurant tables. Add the 80° heat, and it was indeed a Hallowe'en nightmare.

But that is definitely nit-picking. The costumes were outrageous, if occasionally redundant. (There were many, many, many couples featuring an over-inflated woman in stripper-cop attire and a man in striped pajamas and handcuffs, for example.) There was a sense of camaraderie among the revelers, and a refreshing openness and sense of humor overall that made it a lot of fun for me. I did note one man and his young son, though, who looked as though they had just fallen off the turnip truck; the look of amazement in the boy's eyes and the father's obvious terror at seeing such things paraded openly on the street spoke volumes. I admit that I could have been perfectly happy without seeing the Mankini, though.