Mischief Night

I grew up in New Jersey. Every year on October 30, I lived in perpetual fear. Would our house be egged? TP’d? Would they smash our pumpkins? Would someone in my family be murdered?

October 30th, the night before Halloween, was known to us as Mischief Night. It wasn’t until adulthood when I learned that this was primarily a New Jersey thing, such as pork rolls or trying to convince people that the entire state doesn’t smell like an abandoned porta potty (it doesn’t! I swear! There are many beautiful places in New Jersey!).

It wasn’t until people started publishing those maps that show our regional differences that I realized the rest of the country (except Michigan, I guess) went about their business as usual on Halloween Eve. Meanwhile, I was a nervous wreck wondering what the local hooligans would do to our house and to everyone inside.

I imagined it to be like The Purge. The one night a year that you could just go out and do all your egging and murdering. And in my dumb child brain, I honestly believed that. Not that I thought it was legal and you could get away with it; I just assumed that since everyone was out committing crimes, you probably would get away with it. There’s just too much crime…