I forgot. Not a shocker since I forget things quite often. Plus, I'm not a Harry Potter reader, just not my cuppa; thus, the date was never magically tattooed on my brain. And so when I drove into Thruway and readily found parking outside Borders, I took it. Sure, there were scads of Goth-y looking teens outside smoking, but for goodness sake, there are ALWAYS scads of Goth-y looking teens outside smoking.
If I hadn't had the youngest with me, a book of his choice already promised, I would have turned right back around on the doorstep. There must have been 500 people inside, clotting and clumping in every aisle, deep orange wristbands firmly attached, waiting to have cheeks painted, waiting to play some version of cakewalk, but mostly just waiting for midnight.