On Halloween, I went over to Mateo and Ashley’s, along with Emily, and her flatmates Jenny and Maureen. It was a nice time. The three flatmates were the witches from Hocus Pocus. Mateo was Beetlejuice. Ashley was Lydia, from the same movie. (Apparently; I’ve never seen it.) I was nothing, until Ashley decided to paint my face and make me undead. In about five minutes she did a pretty damn good job with three colors and some lipstick, all bought at a convenience store. She also did Mateo’s amazing costume.

After an hour or so, the six of us walked to Malasaña, where we went to two bars, had some drinks, and spent most of our time looking at other people’s costumes. The streets were packed with people. It was quite fun. And people kept recognizing Mateo’s costume, and calling out — in heavy accents, of course — “Beetlejuice! Beetlejuice!” At least three or four people insisted on taking photographs with him, which isn’t even counting those who just took pictures of him. Every so often, someone would say “El Joker” (remember, of course, that j’s are y’s here), and would have to be shushed by their friends or yelled at by Mateo.

We ended up walking through Chueca, seeing some ridiculous costumes (although few as good as Mateo’s), and ending up at a churrería that’s open all night, where they ate churros and chocolate. Then I took the bus home, only to end up at the party on the second floor of my apartment building, where there were some drunk people and a bunch of guys dressed as President Zapatero (of Spain)’s daughters, in black garbage bags and wigs. (Google “las hijas de Zapatero” to see why; even just an image search is fine). It was a bit surreal; I went to bed around 5.

I’m sleepy.