A memory from the Midnight Marathon


The title to this entry is a bit misleading… instead of a memory that I formed during the Midnight Marathon, these are memories that popped back into my head while I was riding. The ride up to the start line in Hopkinton was a rather remeniscent ride, to be honest, mostly since it was dark and there was really nothing to do besides pedal my way to Hopkinton. I rode, I thought, and I kept a little dialogue going on in my head in order to pass the time.

While riding to the start line, I had to do through a section of Medway that I hadn’t been in for ages… a section right near where my first real crush used to live. It’s a long story, but suffice it to say that we did something between hanging out and dating for two years, which alternated between amazing and hellish for me. When I finally manned up and told her that I couldn’t do it anymore unless we could actually be a couple… well, she went off and started sleeping with one of my oldest friends. But, fortunately, that is not the story that I remembered while riding through her old neighborhood. Instead, I remembered Halloween.

Stacy’s Mom has a fan.

Cut to Halloween of… 2002? 2003? I don’t really remember, but I do remember that it was amazing. I went trick-or-treating (shut it, even high-schoolers can and should go!) with a few good friends, and we decided to go around Lauren’s house, since it was a fairly nice neighborhood, and would likely give out great candy. We were a group of at least four – Myself, Lauren, a random girl, and two other guys who we used to hang out with. The costumes weren’t too important overall, except for what one of the guys was wearing – he was dressed as a woman in a towel, going as “Stacy’s Mom”. If you don’t know it, “Stacy’s Mom” is a song from around that time, where some kid is singing that his girlfriends (Stacy’s) mother is clearly hotter that her, and totally wants in on him.

So this kid (I think his name was Pat? Maybe?) was dressed up with fake blonde hair, fake breasts, and a tiny little towel. He was obviously a guy, and obviously doing a horrible job as a drag queen… but it looked funny to us. The problem arose when we ran into an older gentleman who couldn’t see very well, and thought that poor Pat was actually a girl walking around without any clothes on.

We went up to this house, did our usual “merry Christmas!” scream (we were so witty back then), and proceeded to accept candy. The strange thing here was that, while we usually got the evil eye for being “too old”, instead this man was being genuinely friendly. Very friendly. And mostly to Pat… offering extra candy. Not too creepy, but enough to be a bit… “umm what?” Until, that is, the other shoe dropped and the guy asked if Pat wanted to come inside to hang out for a little. He even went as far as to walking outside and trying to put his arm around poor Pat to usher him into the darkened house.

Needless to say, we all ran away screaming with laughter, assuming that Pat was following right behind. When we finally collapsed in a pile of giggling idiots a house or two away, we finally took a minute to get our bearings and start making fun of Pat for being mistaken for a girl. And that, right then, was when we realized that he wasn’t with us. That instead, he was still on the porch of the old man’s house, chatting animatedly with him. This, of course, brought more peals of laughter from us, continuing on until he finally shook the mans hand and walked back over to us.

“So, how was your date?”

“Ohh, you know… he’s a nice guy! We chatted for a bit about stuff…”

“Did he tell you how pretty you are?”

“Oh of course! I am the prettiest flower! Or at least better than ‘those flat-chested girls you hang out with’… according to him.”


And then it was Pat’s turn to run, screaming with laughter.

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