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“Mad Town,” or Madison, always seems like a must for Halloween. It seems as though every year, whether you want to or not, you must venture to State Street for the annual end-of-October bash.

Well, I think I can safely say that after this last Halloween, I will not be taking that trip again.

If you go to Madison for Halloween, it would seem you should be guaranteed a great time. But my trip did not guarantee this luxury.

I think I might have some kind of curse that forbids me to have an enjoyable time in Madison over Halloween.

Last year started off well enough, as my roommates and I were pumped and ready to hit the road. But, when we arrived in Madison, the inevitable happened -my car broke down.

An hour later, after sitting in a car dealership’s parking lot contemplating what we were going to do, our excitement began to dwindle. We weren’t able to forget about it and have an enjoyable time on State Street after we realized we didn’t have a ride home. Four hours and about a thousand phone calls later, we finally found a ride.

However, as luck would strike, Sunday morning, our ride left without us and, again, we were stranded. After contemplating ordering a seat on a Greyhound or testing our hitchhiking abilities, we finally found a ride with some very nice, very complete strangers.

Fast-forward to this year’s events in “Mad Town.”

Having higher hopes and a better car, we headed on our three -and-a-half-hour journey.

It seemed like it would be a better time, as we were prepared for everything and had a few people who had never experienced the Madison event. I was determined to have a better time than I did last year.

But, alas, this would be impossible for me, as the Madison curse prevailed.

When we got to Madison and started getting ready to head out to the excitement, I realized I had forgotten most of my costume in the trunk of my friend’s car, which, of course, was a long, long way away.

So, after a few wasted hours trying to figure out what I was going to do, I decided to forget about it and just go as, well, nothing.

There is a definite underlying law for Halloween in Madison that states no matter who you are or what kind of background you have, if you are female, you must wear a costume with minimal material. Mix that with the unbearable 10-degree weather, and right there, you’ve got yourself a pretty miserable time.

As we headed to State Street, my friends and I found we accidently must have worn signs on our butts that read, “Please, grab me.” I don’t know what it is about large crowds and drunken college students that would make them think grabbing girls’ butts, even on Halloween, was appropriate.

After having my behind feel like a pincushion, we still found it wasn’t the worst thing about State Street.

The only purpose of State Street is to walk down to the capitol and then walk back. There’s really no rhyme or reason to it – its sole purpose is to be a place of mass pandemonium.

I felt like I was in a mosh pit, but there was no concert in sight.

After leaving State Street with most of my costume ripped and left on the ground along with the remains of my trampled feet, we decided to call it a night.

But not before we saw the lights of a certain Chinese restaurant that finally made our night enjoyable.

After leaving the restaurant feeling pretty good, the curse of course popped its head out again.

As we headed back to our friend’s apartment, I was lucky enough to witness a man run out a door about 10 feet away from me and shoot projectile vomit across the sidewalk I was about to walk on. And that pretty much did it for me. I was ready to go home and never return to the Halloween from hell.

I like to think of myself as a pretty easygoing person always open to a good time. But I now know that the curse lies in the shadows of the drunken State Street party-goers and the late night vomiters.

And that’s enough to keep me from ever going back.