I’d never witnessed a zombie walk firsthand before. And while that sentence immediately makes me want to launch into an Abbot and Costello routine with myself, I’ll assume it’s pretty much universally understood at this point in the cultural monster cycle that when I say “zombie walk,” I mean a bunch of people costumed as zombies parading through a crowded place.
And, of course, my first time happened in Salem.
Also, I learned that with a zombie walk, there are no levels of good or bad costume, just levels of good or bad enthusiasm.
I took some photos, but they were terrible because I didn’t want to lose my place in line. Fortunately, as so often happens in a zombie apocalypse, my wife was separated from me at the time, so she was able to capture it from a different vantage and in all its gory glory.