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Monday, October 22, 2012

Maegan Langer and the Butt-Crack of DOOM

I love Halloween. I love the atmosphere, the cheesy decorations, the songs from the Lost Boys soundtrack on the radio, the fall colors, the parade of (sometimes very bad) scary movies on TV, and of course, the candy. One thing I do not get excited about, however, is the endless supply of haunted houses. I think this stems from an experience I had at the Utah State Fair when I was twelve. My friend and I decided to brave the resident haunted house, and as is so often the case when you get two or more twelve-year-old girls together, stupid stuff happens.

We're making our way through the dark, narrow, rickety halls (remember, this is state fair-quality stuff), emitting occasional squeals. I was probably clinging to my friend's sweatshirt, when a dude wearing a hockey mask in a dark corner lets his (de-chained) chainsaw rip. This scares us so bad, we fall over in one screaming, giggling, clutching mass of twelve-year-old girl nerves. At least I think I was giggling, until I feel my head smack against the aluminum floor.

Our friend the Jason impersonator immediately kills (HA! pun intended) the chainsaw. My friend and I untangle ourselves and flail around in the dark until we're both standing again. This is when I notice Jason is suddenly very close to me. Still wearing the hockey mask, he calmly says, "Are you okay? Did you hurt your head?" I manage a whimpery "No" (which is true) and allow my friend to drag me out the exit - luckily not far from the scene of the crime.

Looking back on it now, I guess I should be proud. How many people can say they got Jason Voorhees to break the fourth wall out of concern? Plus, this was a moment of epic clumsiness that would give Russo a run for her money. Even so, I'm still no great fan of haunted houses. It's about the anticipation, the knowing that any moment, something is going to jump out and startle me.

That said, I braved not one but two houses of scares this weekend. The first one had a "zombie apocalypse" theme. Yes, there was fake blood everywhere and plastic body parts and giant cockroaches and people writhing around on the floor and a guy in an electric chair and kids in psychedelic, 3-D clown make-up (she told me I smelled like cotton candy). But the most disconcerting thing for me was something my friend Diana (a true haunted house aficionado if ever there was one) calls the "Butt-Crack of DOOM": a dark passage made of two giant, inflatable canvas bags that you have to push your way through. Claustrophobics, beware.

The second place was a haunted pioneer village. It was more atmospheric than truly scary. The headless horseman (who turned out to be not-so-headless) was a nice touch. Still, the anticipation was so stressful I made Diana hold my hand for most of it. I'm convinced this is the only reason I survived the giant spider that literally flew down on us as we escaped an old barn. I swear it looked just like THIS.

5 comments:

rita jones said...

I don't go near those things physically. my brian is a haunted house. I guess live in a virtual one most of the time.

Norma Beishir said...

The Butt-Crack of Doom? That's a major attention-getter!

Maegan Langer said...

Well, it certainly doesn't hurt ;-)

William Kendall said...

Awww, Shelob just wants a little attention. Someone to chat with.

Preferably who tastes good.

Russo said...

I had to come back and read this post because it was seriously good. I have to agree with you, I love Halloween. You definatly gave me a run for my money on this, holy cow. I would've been freaked out. I haven't been to a haunted house for a decade or so, they terrify me.