The fireworks have fizzled. The sparklers have burned out. The grill has gone cold. Which can only mean one thing …
It’s finally time to talk about Halloween. If you’ve looked around lately, the signs are here. Spirit Halloween stores are starting to whisper from the void. CVS is quietly phasing out sunscreen in favor of candy corn. The air is thick with … potential. It’s happening.
If you’re anything like me, and if you’re reading this, I hope you are … you’ve already got half your Halloween decor out of storage and you’re mentally crafting your 37 different costume ideas.
Yes, it’s only July. No, I don’t care. The minute the last hot dog hits the paper plate and the final Bud Light goes warm on someone’s porch – I’m done. I’m trading red, white, and blue for black mesh, fake blood, and glittery bat wings. I’ve served my country … now I’m serving spooky.
Rehoboth’s Queer & Creepy Core
Rehoboth has always had a haunted heart. Our little beach town isn’t just flip-flops and fish tacos. It’s ghost stories and queer magic stitched right into the sand.
Let’s start with the crown jewel of beachside terror: The Haunted Mansion at Funland. Locals know it. Tourists fear it. Drag queens like me adore it. Since 1970, this delightfully creaky ride has been dishing out pitch-black terror with animatronics that are somehow both horrifying and nostalgic.
And every October, Rehoboth transforms into a full-blown Halloweentown for Sea Witch Festival. We even have our own cursed shipwreck! The HMS Braak sank off our coast in 1798 and is rumored to have been hexed by a sea witch. So really, we’ve been cursed and queer since the 18th century. Iconic.
WHERE TO FIND ME
If you’re hunting witches this month, just follow the distant cackling and the scent of setting spray on fire:
FRI, July 11: Freddie’s Beach Bar, 9 p.m. Expect lashes, laughs, and possible levitation.
SAT, July 19: Rehoboth Pride Expo by day, then back to Freddie’s that night for more chaos.
SUN, July 27: The Purple Parrot. The drinks are stiff and so are my joints.
While everyone else is clinging to summer, I’m stitching rhinestones onto a velvet cloak and emotionally relocating to a Spirit Halloween. Halloween isn’t just a holiday, it’s drag with lore. It’s liberation in fishnets. So if you feel a chill in the air, even on a hot July night, or see a figure strutting down Rehoboth Avenue in thigh-high boots and a cape made of caution tape … don’t be scared. It’s probably just me.
