From Ghost Train to Wizard Cash

From Ghost Train to Wizard Cash: When Community Halloween Gets Pricier (and Less Inclusive) 🎃🚂✨

For many Vancouver families, the Stanley Park Halloween Ghost Train was a fall tradition — simple, imaginative, and affordable. I remember when tickets cost $5, then $10. It meant families from across the city could join in the spooky fun without breaking the bank. 👨‍👩‍👧‍👦🍂

I was one of the first to film and share the train online back when hardly anyone did — not for clout, but because it felt special, and I wanted to share that small sparkle with others. Soon everyone was posting videos and photos: community magic in motion. ✨📹

The good, and the not-so-good

Not every year was perfect. One year the train used a Día de Muertos theme that missed important cultural context — it felt like cultural appropriation rather than careful celebration. I pushed back then because those traditions deserve respect, not to be used as surface-level props. Still, even with flaws, the event felt local and connected. 🕯️🌺

Now: branded, expensive, and complicated

This year the park is hosting a Harry Potter–themed event produced by Warner Bros. Discovery Global Experiences. Tickets are being sold at $70 for children and $86 for adults. For a family of four that easily tops $300 — and that’s before parking, food, or souvenirs. 💸🎟️

City staff expect the event to bring in hundreds of thousands of dollars, and you can see why: it’s a polished, franchised experience aimed at big audiences. But the price tag changes who can realistically attend. It shifts a public tradition toward a luxury attraction. 😕

Inclusion matters — not just price

This isn’t only about affordability. The Harry Potter brand is connected to controversy: J.K. Rowling’s public statements on transgender people have hurt many in the 2SLGBTQ+ community. For trans and queer families (and their allies), walking into a branded, celebratory space tied to those voices may not feel safe or welcoming. That means even if someone can afford the price, they may choose not to attend — which makes “inclusion” a real concern, not a talking point. 🏳️‍🌈💬

So this becomes two questions at once: who can afford to join, and who feels welcome to show up?

A balanced ask, not a tantrum

I’m not only criticising change for change’s sake. Events evolve, and big producers can bring impressive experiences. But when a public space starts hosting expensive, branded attractions that carry cultural baggage, it’s fair to ask: what kind of traditions do we want for our city?

• Affordable & local — traditions that welcome families who can’t afford luxury ticket prices.
• Culturally respectful — events that consult and collaborate with communities whose traditions are referenced.
• Truly inclusive — spaces where 2SLGBTQ+ people (including trans folks) feel safe and celebrated.

What I hope for

Maybe this sparks a conversation — not a boycott or a pile-on — but creative action. Perhaps local groups, schools, artists, and neighbours could collaborate on new, low-cost Halloween traditions that prioritise accessibility and respect. Imagine pop-up neighbourhood lantern walks, community-run haunted gardens, or storytelling nights in local rec centres — events made by the city’s people, for the city’s people. 🌙✨

Halloween should be for everyone. If you remember the Ghost Train, or if you have ideas for new, inclusive traditions, I’d love to hear them. Leave a comment below — keep it kind, keep it constructive. 💬👇

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