The fog lifts, the dead arrive, and Peckerwood throws a party only the afterlife could survive. By 10:45 the fog machines had unionized and refused to work without hazard pay. Candles hissed in protest. The chandeliers flickered like a dying Broadway star refusing to leave the stage. Outside, the wind howled through the magnolias like an ex-lover with opinions. Inside, The Midnight Manor opened its doors to the annual Peckerwood Halloween gala—a social experiment that asked: what happens when the dead are better dressed than the living? The valet was losing his mind. The first car that pulled up was a hearse. Bela Lugosi stepped out wearing Tom Ford and an expression that said he was above this, though he absolutely wasn’t. He swept through the foyer like a man expecting applause. Moments later, a red Tesla arrived and disgorged a congressman who insisted he’d been invited by “someone in communications.” Everyone silently agreed this was a cosmic clerical error. He spent most of the ni...