I anticipate Halloween all year. I love coming up with a creative costume and seeing my friends and family looking completely different. And, of course I love the candy.

Overall, I love Halloween.

However, when I was younger, I dreaded the night before Halloween, which is commonly celebrated as “Mischief Night.” Traditionally, this night gives children the opportunity to be a little “mischievous,” as the name permits, which usually entails “TP-ing,” or toilet-papering, the trees in the neighborhood, smashing pumpkins or covering cars in silly string. It is mostly harmless, good-natured misbehaving.

In some cases, neighborhood punks take this “fun” pre-Halloween tradition and cause more detrimental damage, such as vandalizing with spray paint, keying cars and the ever-popular egging houses. I never advocated “Mischief Night,” as I seldom found fun in causing damage to innocent people’s homes, whether or not it was serious.

As a freshman this year, I was sad to not be at home with my family and friends on Halloween. Yet I was curious to see the “college Halloween” and hoped the unfavorable, “Mischief Night” would not follow me to college.

Unfortunately, this was not the case, as I discovered late Halloween night.

This year, Halloween fell on a Monday, which was very inconvenient since Mondays are my busiest days here. Not only did I go to class from about 8 a.m. to 4 p.m., I had to go to work until about 9 p.m. after classes. Needless to say, I was too tired to go out and celebrate Halloween.

I figured this year I had too much of a demanding schedule and too many obligations other than being social to celebrate this holiday in all its glory. Sad, but true, I accepted this reality and just relaxed for the rest of the night. However, around 1:30 a.m., I realized I hadn’t eaten any dinner and decided to trek over to Cappy’s for a cheesesteak. Being a young and vulnerable female, I concluded I should not walk the streets at this hour of night solo.

So, I convinced another female friend of mine to accompany me. Unlike many of our drunken female peers, we were dressed in ordinary clothes – jeans and sweats, not a leather “sexy cop” ensemble.

We were just kids going to get some food.

The 10-minute walk to Cappy’s was nothing out of the ordinary. About five feet before we walked into the pizza parlor, my friend and I passed an ominous-looking group of guys. They were not the kind of people I would normally speak to.

But because it was Halloween, my friend decided to be friendly and say “Hi.” As expected, they returned the greeting, but nearly 30 seconds later, they bombarded us with eggs.

EGGS!

Covering my jeans, my sweater, my handbag, I was absolutely stunned. My friend and I ran screaming into Cappy’s, disgusted, disturbed and distressed.

I wondered, “Why?” What would possess someone to do such a thing, that not only brought public humiliation but actual pain! Who were these hooligans? What made us targets? Wouldn’t our attackers have preferred to egg a drunk “sexy cop” instead?

And who said it was acceptable to egg people? Had “Mischief Night” evolved from egging houses to egging actual people on Halloween? Were the rules of “Mischief Night” a thing of the past? Was I still living life in the mindset of sheltered suburbia?

Wait! How could I forget? I came here on a mission, a mission to fight hunger, a mission to get a cheesesteak. Being covered in unfertilized egg embryo was not going to deter me from filling my aching stomach.

As unsettled as I was, I got my food and headed home. I was still bewildered about the event that had just occurred. I worked the entire day. And in addition to having a relaxing night, I just wanted some greasy food. Was that too much to ask? Apparently it was, as my quest was interrupted by an act of aggression – and a messy one at that.

Looking at this incident objectively, an outside observer would perhaps find the situation humorous, and would consider it an entertaining story to tell. Nearly two weeks since the “egging” occurred, I can look back on it with a smirk. I mean, what kind of person throws an egg at an innocent girl? Someone who is about to have a fantastic run-in with karma, that’s who.

Still, I will never forget the cold stickiness and nauseating smell of those eggs. Halloween may never again have happy connotations for me, because I received a “trick” instead of a “treat” this year.

Perhaps, I will think back to my freshman year and shake my head at my overreaction to a childish prank. Perhaps.

But it’s certain my handbag will not recover as well as I may.

– Julia Gall is a freshman journalism major.