Sexy Amelia Earhart

On Sunday, I went to my very first West Hollywood Halloween. I was under the impression that it would be some wild gay orgy, and though it was more flamboyant than your average affair, it was really just a fun dance-y and costume-y time with tens of thousands of people publicly drinking in front of police officers who were laughing too much to intervene. I had a great time.

In addition to the sexy chimpanzee and sexy Roman solider I was hanging out with, one of the new people I met was dressed as a sexy Amelia Earhart (an aviator jacket and hat and little else). She was cool, but had trouble when she tried to be “in character,” referencing that she died in a train wreck. On the first occasion, I let it slide because she was nipping from a bottle of Jack, but when she mentioned it again, I couldn’t help but make a joke.

So that’s why they never found Earhart’s body! They kept looking for plane wreckage rather than searching for her on a locomotive. They should have known a woman could never fly around the world without cheating for a portion of it. To her credit, Sexy Amelia Earhart laughed off my teasing of her “train wreck” comment.

But as I was increasingly discovering, train wreck might have been right. The girl was a mess.

Sexy Amelia Earhart tugged at my arm to show me her pocket watch. “Is that part of your costume?” I asked. “I don’t know, it just looks cool,” she said. I started dangling her pocket watch in front of her face, asking if she believed in hypnotism. “My ex-husband is a hypnotist,” she said. It turns out that, even though she’s in her early 20s, she was married for four and a half years and only recently divorced. “My parents say he hypnotized me into marrying him,” she added. I asked whether she thought that was true, and she sighed, “Probably.”

Shortly after participating in breaking the world record for most people dancing to “The Time Warp,” the sole of Earhart’s shoe broke off, causing her to have trouble walking. When she inquired whether anyone had any tape to repair it, I knew that I had some pieces of duct tape inside my pants taping back my pockets. Chivalrously, because I had tights on underneath my pants, I pulled my pants down to pick at the tape. Accidentally, however, I yanked the tights down, too, exposing myself, surrounded by thousands of people. Here I had stereotyped West Hollywood and thought I’d be seeing penises all night, but the first penis everyone saw? My own. What’s worse is that in my haste to pull my pants back up, I ripped my nice twenty-five dollar reversible belt in two. My friends said they didn’t even know how that was physically possible, but I guess I’m capable of Herculean strength in the face of embarrassment. Consequently, for the rest of the night, my tattered pants kept sliding down.

Who’s the train wreck now, Kevin?