Houses on Not-So Haunted Hills

As I said before, I don't enjoy being scared.  I know people say there is a correlation between the pleasure and fear sensors in our brains but for me the only pleasure I derive from slasher flicks and roller coasters is when A.) tables turn on the masked murderer and they find themselves as the hunted, rather than the hunter and B.) I know the coaster is slowing down to a stop.  So I have a hard time understanding why people give their hard-earned money for the sole purpose of getting freaked out of their minds.

I might even understand the fun of some roller coasters (there are a few that I do enjoy) but what I can't understand are those seasonal haunted houses.  Who is watching a film about a serial killer wielding a chainsaw on the loose in an abandoned farmhouse and is thinking- 'Golly I wish I was there!  Wouldn't being chased by a madman in my skivvies be a gas??'  That's what those haunted houses are!  The only difference is when the madman comes up to and breathes down your neck, you're not allowed to fight back.  They tend to throw you out for that...

And yet, despite my aversion, I have found myself on several occasions on line for these "attractions".  Why you ask?  Well, because I don't pay attention and don't do my research.  And I think my friends enjoy watching me have an absolute panic-attack.

Which Witch is Witch
My very first experience with a haunted house was back in eighth grade when our class visited Boston.  We made a stop at Salem, MA to tour the city and visit the witch museum.  Surprisingly, I found it very interesting.  I was going through a very "New Age-y", Enya-listening, magical-forces phase so it was right up my alley.  I could feel the history of the town in the air and hearing the stories about the convicted women was heartbreaking but necessary.

Afterwards we were given a few hours to walk around by ourselves and my friends wanted to see a different "witch" museum.  We walked to this building that housed some witch-related artifacts and then led to a witch-themed haunted house.  I stood around looking at the odd drawings and pictures on the walls.  One held my attention and I remember staring at it more than the others.  It was an image of an attractive girl, her clothes tattered and falling off her.  She was tied to a stake that was engulfed in huge orange flames.  Below her, Satan was reaching out to her, grinning a sadistic smile, his hands close to her breasts, and the look of sheer terror on her face made me gulp hard.  This wasn't the image of an evil green warted hag that was getting what she deserved.  It was the face of innocence and injustice, a girl not much older than me being burned alive.  I know it was just a drawing, but I couldn't shake the fear that gripped my legs so when my friends giddily walked to the entrance of the house I begged off, saying I wasn't feeling well.  I stood there for what felt like an eternity, until finally they emerged, excitedly retelling their experience while I didn't say much at all.  Even though I didn't go through the house, I knew I wasn't my thing and I was ok with that.

Thankfully, I didn't have to confront it again, until many years later on my first trip to London...

The London Dungeons
My friend Ashley and I were absolutely ecstatic to be going to visit our friends Matt and Dave in their home country.  I was especially thrilled; being an English major and lover of history, I couldn't believe I was going to see such monuments as Westminster Abbey and Buckingham Palace.  I'm also fascinated by the dark history of London, so when the boys asked if we wanted to see the London Dungeons, I was all in.  They explained how it showed the history of Jack the Ripper and the Black Plague and more.  It wasn't until we were actually walking into it that I realized what I had gotten myself into.  There were no exhibits detailing the history of ancient punishments or documents in revered light.  We had ghouls coming up to scare us and screaming skeletons behind cellar doors.  Although we did get some history in- we actually heard the details of the Jack the Ripper murder case and saw replicas of various pain-inducing contraptions- and we did have a few light moments- like when Ash and I were put on "trial" in the section about London justice.  And because we were in a big group, I managed to keep my cool long enough to enjoy it as a bonding experience.

Penn State Penitentiary
Again, I agreed to go on this trip to Philly specifically because I had it in my head that it was going to be a nighttime tour of the prison.   My first indicator that this was NOT the case was the fact that there were people dressed up a little TOO much for just a tour.  As we boarded the buses to the penitentiary, it all dawned on me what we were about to do.  My heart sank and I seriously considered bolting to the nearest bar to wait it out.  But not wanting to embarrass myself, I would man up and and go through with it- and I did.  I also screamed my head off even when we were just on line, which basically created a giant target on my back.  For the next 30 minutes I had zombies and escaped inmates breathing down my neck and shoving their plastic weapons in my face. When it was finally over, my mind, my nerves (and my throat) were exhausted.

Busch Gardens "Dark Side of the Gardens"
Joe begged me to go to Busch Gardens for their Halloween celebration.  I still don't know how he managed to convince me, but I went along with it, thinking it was just going to be decorated with some spooky elements.  When we got there, we realized it was much more than that.  The park was almost completely unlit, with kids in dark clothes carrying shovels that they would slam on the ground to create a huge clatter of noise and sparks.  Other people were in high stilts and would come after you.  Basically, the entire park was one big haunted house.  I wanted to kill Joe.  He also wanted to go on the rides of course, so when I wasn't trying to dodge the attention of one of the actors, I was nervous about going on the roller coasters.  At one point, we were heading towards the biggest ride in the park and after getting surprised and screamed at by a bunch of extras, we realized too late that we were going the wrong way.  We had no choice but to back track the way we came.  After a few more pop-outs and screams, I had had enough.  I was wound tighter than the plastic tab on a loaf of bread.  I started yelling, "I'm here!  I'm frightened!  I'm just going to scream at everything!"  It turned out that moment of release was just what I needed- it calmed me down and it made Joe laugh harder than I had ever heard.

So if you invite me to attend some fall activities, such as pumpkin picking or a corn maze, I'll be there.  However, if you tell me we are going to visit the Lizzie Borden house, you'll forgive me if I do a thorough check on the address and a back-out plan.  I really don't feel like being chased by a pretend 30-something ax-wielding spinster.

How about you?  Are scary houses your thing?