Flyby Tries: Trick-or-Treating at Random Dorms

Before you ask, no, this isn’t a PSA from Harvard’s administration about how they’re suddenly hosting a "safe" school-sponsored Halloween this year. It’s much more important than that.

It seems that while we rest in our ivory towers and twin XLs at this small liberal arts institution just outside of Boston, we often lose touch with the inner child within us. Remember the days when you would galavant outside with your friends during recess, trading lunch items and living for the simple joys of life? We too often become caught up trying to be “adults” and forget those moments. Instead of focusing on securing that Bain return offer (or partying in Holworthy basement for a “crazy lit movie” of a Halloweekend), feed your sweet tooth, live life on the wild side, and explore the world around you!

So, in an effort to feed that inner child in me, I went trick-or-treating this past week. With my Where’s Waldo costume (bracing myself for the “I found you” and “Where are you?” comments), I was ready to embark on this spooky escapade. Joined by my trusty sidekicks — a giant inflatable pink shark, a gingerbread woman, and a cowgirl — I set out with my own Harvard College Costume Gang (known by all my homies as HCCG), devoted to restoring the art of living Halloween on our campus. Our mission: to discover the readiness of our peers for the holiday we grew up loving and participating in.

But before we could brave the rugged terrain along the Charles, our journey began at 14 Plympton — the headquarters of The Crimson — where we plotted our journey out like a covert operation. Each housing neighborhood has its perks: I briefly considered heading to the Q-Block (which you may know as the Quad), rumored home of the elusive king-size candy bars, but quickly ruled it out for the sake of my mental health. It was just too far. As for Lowell, Adams, and Quincy, well, they’re already blessed with their “perfect” location smack in the middle of campus and hot breakfast, so I figured that they already have enough — the other houses need to be visited by the spirit of Halloween.

So, what’s left? The River Houses: where the views are scenic and the residents are, well, usually happy enough to provide trick or treaters more than just a packet of raisins (spoiler alert… they toe the line). From the concrete blocks of Mather to the bougieness of Eliot, we set our sights on a riverside route that spoke to my candy yearning heart. After all, with great riverside real estate comes the great responsibility of giving out top-notch treats (and maybe even a good trick or two).

The Crimson's very own president presented us with… peanut butter? By Elyse C. Goncalves

Stop 1: The Crimson Scaries

To kick off our quest, we knocked on the door of our fearless leader, J. Sellers Hill ’25. They say don’t get high on your own supply, yet I beg to differ. Our president, ever the symbol of Crimson bravery, greeted us with a singular jar of peanut butter, complete with multiple spoons sticking out of it. Clearly, he doesn’t leave HQ much, but this was probably his way of fueling up for yet another late night of dealing with our News staff, or an elaborate cry for help? Either way, it made me wonder if our adventure would be just as questionable. Undeterred, I rallied my candy-craving comrades and set out into the night, ready for chaos, candy, and perhaps a few choices we’d definitely reconsider in the morning.

Mather yielded a clementine, which is technically not a box of raisins. By Elyse C. Goncalves

Stop 2: The Ghost of Mather Lather?!?

As I approached the haunted concrete fortress of Mather House, I was, frankly, terrified. The stairwell seemed to be trying to hypnotize me to sleep, and from the get-go I knew I was dealing with a haunted house. When I passed through the haunted gate, an ominous drumbeat echoed from somewhere inside (maybe the JCR, an especially hallowed spot), pulling me deeper, becoming louder with each step, until finally, I reached my first door... and suddenly the sound cut out.

I knocked, and out wandered a senior lad, visibly flabbergasted to find a trick-or-treater on his doorstep. Clearly, the Halloween spirit hadn’t yet reached Mather. Yet, with a bit of motivation, he embraced the opulent occasion and gifted me a beautiful, albeit slightly past-its-prime, dhall clementine. Classic Mather — always at the forefront of embracing health (though luckily not raisin box level). Upon receiving the spherical object (is it still to be considered fruit?) I heard the drums play again, but as I turned to go, a neighboring student opened their door and I quickly descended upon her doorstep. Offering a handful of red fireball candies to me, she, in return, took a handful of candy out of my cauldron (without asking?!?!). Whether she was celebrating Halloween or just had a serious case of the munchies, I’ll never know.

I set off toward Dunster — the haunted red-domed home, where I was sure to endure a marathon of meese puns that would haunt me far beyond Halloween.

The editor who is uploading this image also gave Wyatt some oatmeal. By Elyse C. Goncalves

Stop 3: Devious Dunster (I definitely didn’t get lost… wink)

To begin, I really would’ve really appreciated some signs in this building. I couldn’t figure out where the heck the dorms were (bad meese). For reasons beyond my control, I can only say that I received a bountiful amount of apple-cinnamon oatmeal in Dunster. I microwaved it for breakfast the next morning, and let me tell you, it was scrumptious. Though it may not be your typical Halloween haul, at least Dunster's commitment to fiber is unmatched.

More respect must be given to Dunster — sure, it was far, and yes, I did get lost somewhere between its grand arches, but I exited with a little extra pep in my step, courtesy of a mysterious liquid offered to me in a dimly lit dorm. Who knew getting lost could be so... hydrating? Next I was called to head to the eyesore I know as Leverett.

Look at our beautiful costumes! By Elyse C. Goncalves

Stop 4: Lev (but dead?)

I went across the street to the looming Leverett Tower G. Determined, I knocked on five different doors, each time baffled by their advanced doorbell technology — it was like watching my grandma struggle with her iPhone. But despite my efforts, not a soul answered.

Leverett left a king-size-candy-bar-sized hole in my heart that no amount of Halloween spirit could fill. They’re officially that neighbor — the one who leaves their porch light off and doesn’t even put out a bowl of candy. Just darkness, emptiness, and the faint whiff of disappointment.

Leverett, you’re on thin ice: first, bushes that are impossible to jump into, and now this. I’m getting tired of you.

In Winthrop, we got a full pumpkin! By Elyse C. Goncalves

Stop 5: Winthrop (The Nightmare on Mill St.)

Next I went to Winthrop, which, with its sterile hospital vibe, could double as a horror movie set. Yet, the residents were surprisingly gracious to a wandering trick-or-treater like myself.

Not only did they bestow upon me a handful of Jolly Ranchers, but also an entire pumpkin. Yes, a whole pumpkin — a gift that felt almost diplomatic. I’ll graciously overlook the, let’s say, unique aroma of its dhall as a testament to their goodwill.

Thank you, Winthrop, for this curiously charming Halloween experience.

The night descended into chaos at this point. By Elyse C. Goncalves

Stop 6: Eliot (The Final Gauntlet)

Lastly, I wandered to Eliot House — the domus, the fête of the bougie elite. Knocking on three dorms in search of treats, I was prepared for elegance, mystery, maybe a decadent candy bowl. Instead, the first door swung open to reveal… a suite full of tricks.

On one side, a roommate was ruthlessly cranking out pull-ups, getting the normal 11 p.m. pump in. But, just as I gathered myself, the other resident — dark and shadowed by the dim stairwell light — looked me dead in the eye and hit me with a dab. A dab. Was he frozen in 2016, haunting these halls with outdated moves? Would I ever financially recover from this?

I stumbled back, haunted and spiritually adrift, bracing myself for more tricks. But then, the Halloween gods took pity on me: a king-size bag of M&Ms and a lone peanut butter cup appeared at the next door I went to. With that, the strange dab spell lifted, and my Halloween quest for the ultimate prize — a king-size — was complete.

Eliot had answered my call for help, ending my night in perfect fashion.

A Halloween Postmortem (Candy, Chaos, and Questionable Life Choices)

So this Halloween, honor the legacy John Harvard would demand for his institution! Don’t let Oct. 31 pass by like any other Thirsty Thursday (the 12-pack of Tweas will always be there) — embrace it with the spirit of those who built this hallowed institution. Don your wildest costume, gather a group of amigos, knock on doors with unapologetic enthusiasm, and stockpile that candy like your education depends on it.

Halloween is more than a holiday; it’s a call to reconnect with your inner child and find joy in the spooky, silly, and sweet. Go forth and haunt with pride!