Happy spooky season, you witchy little weirdos! The leaves are turning (though I suspect my oak is battling something serious), Earth Fare has put out the pumpkins, and the temperatures have plummeted to a breezy, climate-crisis-y 72 degrees.
Let the haunting commence!
I know it might be a tad early to dust off the cobwebs and deck out the lawn with tombstones, but honestly, I can’t help myself. Are you really going to shame me for a little premature celebration? Seems a bit uncouth, if you ask me. But whether you’re ready or not, I’m thrilled to usher in the scariest season with the help of three frightfully funny humans — and dare I say it, friends.
First up, we have Roman Fraden, a local stand-up comedian with a heart of ghoul-d and a killer bit about kids peeing in pools (relatable, right?). Next, there’s Melissa Hahn, the mastermind behind Modelface Comedy, Asheville’s most prolific stand-up comedy production company. If you haven’t been to one of her shows, you’re truly missing out on some spine-tingling chortles. And last, but certainly not least, I’m thrilled to introduce David Gwaltney — a local photographer, musician, and all-around funny guy who’s always got a trick (or treat) up his inevitably plaid sleeve.
Cayla: In addition to the commencement of spooky season, late September marks the highly anticipated transformation of leaves from dull, uninspiring green to the vibrant, breathtaking hues of brown. And don’t get me wrong — it’s a sight to behold. Truly, it is. But let’s be honest, Leaf Lookers need to find a less invasive/more interesting hobby. If you ask me, Asheville should embrace a new type of visitor: Construction Peepers. Imagine people flocking to witness the ceaseless widening of highways and the perpetual building of bridges, reveling in the endless traffic jams as workers in neon vests drill holes into the earth and take potentially life-ending bathroom breaks in middle-of-the-road porta johns. Now that’s a spectacle! What’s one thing you think tourists should flock to see?
Roman: This one is tough because I’m such a fan of leaves changing color — yes, enough with the endless monochromatic green — and I’m even more so a fan of the endless rivers of hot, strong-armed construction bros doing what they were built to do: lift, twist, point, bend over, wipe their faces, make eye contact, follow you into the bathroom, well … OK, oops, nevermind … enough on that. Since those two top attractions are now spoken for, I can only turn to the final and most obvious sight for tourists to flock to Asheville to witness. And that is … themselves!
Cayla: Oh, so like a tourist season, but LITERALLY a tourist season? It’s so meta. I’m confused.
Roman: Don’t hurt yourself. Having lived in many different places, I can confidently say there’s nowhere quite like Asheville. Where else can you kick back in a shoe-free teahouse, sip your faux mock-matcha-cap-less-cappuccino and watch parades of drunk bachelorettes in matching neon wigs and cowboy hats? All you have to do is shift your gaze across the street to witness mobs of unintelligible bachelors, all oddly synchronized in Hawaiian shirts and “Last Vagina Forever” hats, swirling around you in a kaleidoscope of drum circle soundscapes and incense-hazed street spectacle — something you won’t find replicated anywhere else in the world.
Oops, you just bumped into a poly-influenced, fortunetelling, live pan-flute-playing tarot reader who quickly reassures you about all those pesky, real-world worries like “rent, contraception and your unborn future kid’s college tuition.” And just like that — poof! — you can forget about it all and disappear back into your faux-a-ccino mandala iced almond vanilla inverted tea leaf not-te, taking in the spectacle of other “adventure warriors” like yourself, living their very best life for one week … right here in Asheville.
David: Mmm … nothing warms the soul quite like a faux-a-ccino. However, my pick is the upcoming Autumn Olympics, which is always a fun time for the family. Cold Plunge Apple Bobbing, Speedrun Corn Mazes and Blindfold Pumpkin Carving, of course, are crowd favorites. But I’m personally a fan of Mental Gymnastics. Comprising six events, competitors attempt to avoid going to therapy and accepting responsibility at all costs: (getting wasted at) The Vault, Crystal Collecting, TikTok Pseudo-Psychology, Microdosing Ayahuasca (or really any drug that’s not an antidepressant) and Personal Accountability in Retrograde. Yours truly will be competing in the Pot Calling the Kettle Black for Team AVL.
Melissa: I live for the Autumn Olympics. Last year I won bronze in the Patchouli Endurance Test. I actually stayed in the middle of a late-night drum circle for 17 minutes before gagging.
David: That’s incredible. Congratulations.
Melissa: Thank you. When it comes to tourists, my vote goes to bird-watching. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve found real joy in the simple act of watching birds — from the native species I can see from my porch to the fall migration of swifts. But the most exciting new development? The large cranes that have taken over downtown! You can spot them on every street. Colorful and loud, they not only attract tourists but also signal the arrival of future overpriced condos, giving visitors the chance to make their favorite vacation last forever.
Who hasn’t spent hours, maybe even days or weeks, watching these majestic “birds” hard at work, building their projects? Just building new hotels directly on top of other hotels.
Cayla: When I went to Lowe’s earlier this month and saw 18-foot animatronic skeleton pirates rocking out on guitars and drum sets, a wave of childish delight surged through me like a very nerdy potion bubbling in a witch’s cauldron. “Oh, God yes,” I thought, tears in my eyes. “They’re here.” I live for themed consumerism: over-the-top yard decorations, the unmistakably basic scent of pumpkin spice candles, slutty little cop costumes. What’s your favorite part of Halloween in Asheville?
Roman: Wow, you really nailed it there. I’m at a loss for words. Those are exactly the things I love about the approaching season. Crisp air. Spooky front yards. Pumpkin-scented everything. Witches. Hot cocoa. Sweaters and pants. Ripping off someone’s sweater and pants in a lust-filled frenzy, pausing only to throw more logs into the fireplace. Candy corn. Rustling leaves crackling at my feet as I walk home reliving the lust-filled frenzy in my mind over and over again. Spiked eggnog. Putting up holiday lights. Shopping for gifts. Oh no, forgetting to buy a gift for someone. Making travel plans. Canceling those travel plans. Now my whole family is coming HERE this year for the holidays?!? Why do I feel stressed? I still don’t know what I’m doing for New Year’s Eve. Why didn’t that person ever text me back? Did the lust-filled frenzy mean NOTHING? My house is FREEZING! I can’t; it’s too much. Is this what “cabin fever” is?? Please, no more. Please. I can’t wait for summer.
David: It meant something to me, Roman.
Roman: Just … text me back.
David: Ew, who are you? Get away from me. … To me, spooky season is just a pumpkin-spiced amuse-bouche to the year’s cuffing season. Because, frankly, that’s the most terrifying season of the year. Netflix and chill with a marathon of elevated horror films, all the while determining if this person you might commit yourself to for the season is worthy of giving and receiving scraps of emotional intimacy. If they are emotionally available or their apartment lacks central heat and air, swipe left and try again, all in order to avoid staring into the infinite void of human existence and unprocessed childhood traumas.
Cayla: Oh my God, you guys, you’re bumming me out.
David: Wait, what were we talking about? Spooky season? Oh! Well, I guess if you already are partnered, Vermont Avenue on Halloween is pretty cool.
Melissa: As a Libra, I am all about fall. Give me pumpkin-spiced anything and a cozy sweater, and I am at peace. Call me basic if you want, but I am too busy walking my dog (a three-legged pit bull because I am a hero) with my latte and headphones on, pretending I’m in a Hallmark movie. Just breathing in the crisp air and twirling in the leaves.
Cayla: Speaking of Halloween traditions, I’m switching things up for the trick-or-treaters this year. Last year, I went full “classic Asheville” and handed out affirmation cards from my favorite deck, Palo Santo sticks and a curated selection of crystals — rose quartz, black obsidian, tourmaline, you name it. My thought process? “These little heathens could use some spiritual guidance.” And really, what better way is there to ward off evil spirits than with a bunch of woo-woo bulls**t I impulse-bought on Amazon? Unfortunately, many of the kids mistook the crystals for candy (idiots) and ended up breaking their teeth, while others, clearly unimpressed, hurled the crystals through my windows, screaming, “THIS ISN’T CANDY!” So, this year, I’m keeping it simple and handing out rat poison.* What do you usually give to trick-or-treaters?
Roman: There’s too much mixed messaging.
They tell you, “Don’t take candy from strangers.” Then it’s, “Now go beg for candy from strangers.”
“You can do anything you want in life,” vs. “You won’t make a living doing art.”
“Sugar is bad, don’t eat it,” vs. “Let’s get you a big bag, go fill it with sugar!”
“Jesus loves you,” vs. “You better not be masturbating.”
What are we really doing here?
Melissa: I think Roman might be having a real-time existential crisis/menty-b. You OK, bud?
Roman: YES. I’m just saying, mixed messages are worse for kids than a bag of expired Kit Kat bars. I’m a grown man, and I can’t even reconcile some of these conflicting life principles. Let’s take candy out of the equation — Halloween needs a full rebrand.
Wait, what was the question again? Oh, “What do I give trick-or-treaters?” Nothing. They need to learn life’s most valuable lessons as early as possible, and that’s really the best “candy” I can offer them. So, what do I do? I turn off my lights, lock my doors and head down the street to the annual swinger party, where I can celebrate in whatever way brings me the most joy at the moment.
Look, we’re all on our own journey. Don’t come to my house asking for things. If you have something for me, just leave it at my door, and I’ll get it when I get it. But never, ever show up unannounced — those people are the worst. There’s a life lesson for you, kiddos.
Life is wonderful. Candy is lame. You’re welcome. Happy Halloween!
David: Like Roman, I prefer to give out the cold indifference of a home with no lights on. Who do these kids think I am? George Vanderbilt? I live in Asheville and work for a nonprofit. I’m not exactly rolling in the Snickers bars over here. (If you would like to see me roll around in Snickers, please subscribe to my OnlyFans.)
Cayla: It’s nutty, it’s creamy and it’ll satisfy your sweet tooth in ways you never thought possible.
David: Go away, Cayla. If anything, these kids should pay me. I’m a pioneer. I selflessly drive this 2012 Prius around town, and in doing so I single-handedly solved climate change, ensuring they don’t grow up in an Asheville swallowed up by the Atlantic Ocean. I’m posting sensible gun control memes on my Instagram story. Gun violence: solved. I’m complaining about the direction Asheville is going on my Facebook, because we all know that is how things get changed. Gentrification: obliterated. Don’t thank me later, kids. Thank me now. You can send payments via Venmo to @PotKettleBlack.
Melissa: I just Venmoed you, David. Thank you for keeping the Atlantic at bay. Much like everyone else, I am often a lights-off/no-candy house because I always have to work. Are you even a true Asheville local if you don’t have a food service or entertainment job that keeps you busy on all holidays? I have one last October night to milk these tourists for all their cash before we send them back to Florida or Ohio or New Jersey for the winter.
I’ll leave a bowl of candy on the front step along with some Modelface Comedy stickers because you have to stay on brand. My Halloween treat is a few more Instagram follows.
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