As per usual I was running late on Saturday, Sept. 1. When I finally arrived at the office, I had precious little time to get ready.

I tore holes in my clothes. I cut up my tie. I smeared ketchup all over the front and back of my shirt.

After grabbing a camera and a notebook I took off on foot toward Backstreet Billiards. I figured I’d never find a parking space downtown.

Many people were visiting the Spa City that day for activities related to Final Stretch weekend; I was there for the inaugural Saratoga Springs Zombie Walk. The free event, which will hopefully become an annual tradition, was put on by Skinless bassist Joe Keyser as a gift for his girlfriend’s birthday.

When I arrived downtown a few people told me to check out Caroline St. What I saw there was both fantastic and hilarious. There were so many zombies!

A lot of the outfits and makeup were really terrific. My zombie reporter costume paled in comparison. Additionally, many of the folks who attended the event had devised elaborate back stories on how they’d become zombies and made their way to Saratoga.

I spoke with one woman who referred to herself as The Beirut Bombshell. She was one of five members of the Albany All Stars Roller Derby League who were taking part in the zombie walk.

Ms. Bombshell informed me that she’d been attacked by an ax murderer, and escaped his clutches only to get into a horrible car accident. When she woke up in a cemetery in Saratoga Springs she said she felt essentially the same, except now she craves blood, brains and bearings.

“We need to get more people doing more weird stuff in the Capital Region. This is perfect,” she said.

Local musician Rick Bolton was setting up equipment for his performance later that evening as the undead walked the street. He said he liked the 60s band The Zombies. His wife Sharon loved the zombie walk and said it was “amazing.”

Before I left Caroline, I ran into Keyser’s girlfriend, Summer Phillips, who said the head count for the walk was approximately 200. I wouldn’t be surprised if there had been even more than that.

The vast majority of the people I spoke with thought the zombie walk was a really cool, fun idea. And the few people who seemed genuinely freaked out or disgusted made it all the better for everyone else.

Most of my zombie walk experience was spent with a small band of rogue zombies who split off from the main group. One of the members, a tourist zombie, said he’d found out about the walk back in June; I’d only learned of the invasion a few days before the zombies hit town.

Sadly, zombies were barred from walking on Broadway, so we had to find other places to moan for brains. Some people chose to participate in a zombie bar crawl, but my group decided to battle zombie hunters and take photographs in a cemetery.

Zombies came in all shapes and sizes. Participants included small children all the way up to people in their forties, though teenagers and twentysomethings seemed to dominate the rotting crowd. Rumor has it there was a zombie grandmother, but I didn’t see her and that might be too epic to be true.

My undead pals Kevin, Robare, Heather, Mairi, Caitlin and Aaron ranged in age from 15 to 22. All of them but Robare had come from Lake George.

Around 8 p.m. I went solo to attend a post zombie walk punk show at Backstreet Billiards. Although it wasn’t nearly as well attended as the walk, it was still a good time.

It was there I met a female zombie named Sarah. We went to Uncommon Grounds for a cup of coffee, talked for a while and came back to hear some more of the bands. It’s always nice to meet a new friend whether they’re among the living or the undead.

Resolution update:

Weight: 148 (-12)