The Midwest Chainsaw Massacre?

Fact #1: I suck at scary movies, haunted houses, ghost stories, and the like.

Fact #2: I love a good adrenaline rush.

Fact #3: Participating in fact #1 equals experiencing fact #2.

Fact #4: An intense love/hate relationship of fact #1 is unavoidable.

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My family lives about thirty minutes away from one of the Six Flags Theme Parks. Every October the theme park transforms itself into an enormous haunted extravaganza they like to call Fright Fest They change the names roller coasters like “ The Viper” to “Snakes on a Train”. They dye the water rides red to simulate raft rides in rivers of blood. The typical happy cartoon characters are replaced with ghouls and goblins of all sorts that will literally chase you throughout the park.

They also create haunted houses out of various buildings in the park. One such haunted house is where my story begins.

I will say this again – I SUCK at haunted houses. I’m that enormous pansy-ass who clutches the person in front of her for dear life while screeching and on the verge of tears.

My mother, two brothers, and I decided one chilly night in October to take part in one of the many haunted houses in the park. After waiting in line for about fifteen minutes I had already worked myself up enough to suffer from about three anxiety attacks and a minor stroke.

We entered the house and I immediately grabbed onto Little Shit’s hoodie for dear life. (He actually had bruises and abrasions around his neck afterward.) We traveled through the various quarters of horror as I continued to asphyxiate my youngest sibling with his own clothing.

We finally got to the end of the house where we were in a room full of bloody white bags. Knowing the end was near I let me guard down for one, solitary second. Then I heard a chainsaw start behind me.

I lost any semblance of rationality my poor mind could have conjured.

I proceeded to throw my brother to the ground, knock over the dumb ass standing in front of the exit, and sprint and scream as if a madman with a chain saw was chasing me. Oh, wait…

Eventually I tried to hurtle a wooden fence to escape Mr. Chainsaw. This, of course, failed in two ways. One, my foot caught on the fence and I went ass over elbows in the air only to land flat on said ass. Two, this particular fence was no escape at all. It simply surrounded a bundle aesthetically pleasing bushes.

(Let me remind you, again, that this haunted house was in the middle of an approximately 500,000 square foot theme park where thousands of people were able to witness this.)

So there I was, lying helpless and injured in a bed of branches and mulch covering my eyes because apparently if I couldn’t see Mr. Chainsaw, he couldn’t see me. When I gathered up enough courage to uncover my eyes, he was standing directly above me revving his fake weapon at me. I covered my eyes again, rolled over, and began to cry.

My family eventually rescued me from my prison of leaves and splinters. However, this was only after they could breathe normally and had wiped off their tears of mirth. I also had several people approach me to tell me that I made that the best haunted house they ever experienced. Apparently after I bolted, Mr. Chainsaw tried to turn around to scare the rest of the group only to find them all laughing hysterically. That's why he chased me. Assholes.

My family refuses to let me live this down.

Oh, and by the way - it wasn't like I was some teenager with an over-active imagination when this happened. I was twenty-one years old.