As soon as we entered the Pointin Still on Friday night, a few bar patrons asked to pose for a photograph with us. Within seconds, shouts echoed from wall to wall within the Irish pub: Lego People! At least, that what we were told. All of the conversations and exclamations surrounding us were a bit muffled within twelve inches of cement form tubing.


“Great. I think I got it. But just in case, tell me the whole thing again. I wasn’t listening.”

We were limited to our vision which, ironically, was also limited to only a short distance ahead. We were easily forgiven for spilled drinks and collisions. Where we expected glares, we received high fives; which we cheerfully returned with our yellow, cardboard covered Lego hands.


“Hey, uh, listen. Do you think you can explain to me why I’m dressed like this?”

On the floor, we danced as if no one was watching. Well, to us it seemed as if no one was watching – because we couldn’t see anything. Anyway, it didn’t matter how ridiculous we looked (and, oh, we looked ridiculous), for we were disguised within our Lego identity. As such, we tangoed around the bar. We skipped to beats while sipping Miller Lite through the straw openings of our mouths. Easily, this was the most fun either of us has ever had on Halloween. But as Old Hallows Eve drew to an end, the Lego heads came off and, soon enough, we returned to our usual, well-ventilated selves. As we reflect on this adventure, it is clear that the use of the word “fun” to describe this evening is an understatement.  After all of the laughs that accompanied our escapade, Brian and I came to an unsettling conclusion:

 Life as regular people is just not as fun.