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TCM: Relived, again
October 5, 2006
Last weekend, I kicked off my expedition of Pittsburgh’s haunted houses at Scream Asylum. When it comes to these places, I’m very good at acting like a total hardass until I’m two feet from the entrance and then latching onto whoever is naive enough to bring me along.
Don’t get me wrong — at the time, I’m excited. But anyone who is stable enough to handle my banshee-like screaming is aware that I will kill anything that blocks my exit path from whatever monster gravitates to my authentic, amusing fear.
They didn’t have many workers that night, but they worked well with what they had. We were sent in two couples at a time. During the intro, a certain scary bastard seperated me and the other girl (I did not know this girl, might I add) from our respective dates. She was about twice as scared as I was, and considering the circumstances, we were about 10 seconds away from latching onto each other.
The boys caught up to us and we finished the house, which exited at the entrance to an outdoor maze, which will become the reason for every nightmare I’ll have for the rest of my life.
I’m going to pause here and express my mindset when watching a scary movie. There have been several moments during such films when I have wondered what a person in such a situation (being chased, etc.) must be going through. I couldn’t fathom how someone could even function under that much fear.
I had a taste of it in this maze. After my last incident with Texas Chainsaw Massacre, I thought I’d be finished. Not quite.
My date and I wondered through the maze for a safe five minutes without incident. It wasn’t too dark and the path was roomy, and I had almost completely loosened my grip on his arm. We rounded a corner and I became confident that the maze was free of monsters. It was then that we faced the back of a very large, 10-foot man who appeared to be drenched in blood. My guess is that he was on stilts, but at that moment, I wasn’t thinking clearly.
I was frozen as the beast turned his head around and looked down at me. My eyes moved down to his fists, which were practically at the same level with my head, and I saw that they were latched onto, what else, a chainsaw.
Great.
We took off in a full sprint, winding through the walls like a cornfield, as he revved the horrible machine and took off after us. We came to a dead end and he gained on us. I heard him behind a wall nearby me when it happened. We were so startled that I raced off in one direction, while my date sprinted off in the other.
I was never as alone as I was then. Suddenly, it was pitch black. The walls were narrow. The chainsaw was off. There was no sound.
Thinking back, what could have happened? Nothing. I would’ve ran for a while and found my way out. But at that moment, I was locked in a horror movie. I didn’t know where I was. I couldn’t make a noise in fear of giving away my location. My legs went numb and I wanted to curl up in a corner and hyperventilate until my date came back.
The way I moved would best be described as a tiptoed speed walk. I ran that way until I passed a security guard dressed in bright orange. My guess is that he was stationed in that location for the sole purpose of reviving sweaty, terrified girls who couldn’t handle men with chainsaws. That are covered with blood. And 10 feet tall.
At the sight of him, I immediately began rambling things that no sane person would be able to understand. He told me to rest there, with him, as I cowered against the wall and waited for my date to come back.
It might have been the best and worst haunted house experience of my life.
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