Here it is, just around the corner. Halloween, Isla Vista, 2005. So much has changed about Halloween in this town since I first got here that I think some clarification needs to be made. To begin with, there’s a good reason the cops cracked down on the wild party that Playboy Magazine labeled as the #1 of it’s kind anywhere: out-of-town assholes ruining it for the locals.
My first I.V. Halloween was back in 1987. Yeah, that was the weekend that saw the beginning of the open container law. My buddy Steve from Santa Rosa found out about that one the hard way, not being able to provide identification when stopped for an open container at the old “1000 Club” (1000 Embarcadero del Mar). But then, if all you happen to be wearing is a jock strap and Saran Wrap, there’s just not that much room for a wallet, or error. He told me jail was fun. Hmmm, I wonder.
The one thing I can’t remember throughout that crazy 60,000-plus weekend is many assaults or fights. The only act of violence I witnessed was when some morons beat up a garbage dumpster, a Weber barbeque flew off the second floor of my buddy John’s apartment and when I accidentally nailed one of my bandmates on the head with my pick hand while doing a windmill.
Halloweens for the next few years would be just as fun up until 1991 – that’s when every jerk-off on the West Coast decided to converge at the party of all parties. This led to fights everywhere, even on my quiet street, which happens to be the 6600 block of Sue