Spooky Spork

This is my favorite time of year. Part of it is the weather. In October we often have sunny days, but the sky is a different blue, the air is cool and brisk, there are yellow and orange leaves mixed in with the green, and the light itself has a different quality. Even today, when the sky is gray and there is a low-lying fog blurring my surroundings, it still has its own beauty.

In addition, Halloween is one of my favorite holidays. There is just an element of creativity that you get to have as you design pumpkin carvings and costumes that I appreciate.

Unfortunately, in my current job it is our busiest time of year, so I don’t get to do as much with it as in years past. As I was reflecting on old memories, it occurred to me that my best Halloween memory and my worst both occurred on Sauvies Island. That’s pretty impressive considering that I have only been there three times.

The worst was one night where a group hayride was organized. I was going with my friend Elizabeth and some others, and due to some complications they had, we were running very late. By the time we got there the hayride had already left. I was disappointed to have missed it, but we hung around looking at the shop until the others got back. At this point, a guy she was interested in started talking to her, and offered to drive her back in his sports car via Old Germantown Road. That is the scenic route. It would probably be more scenic in daytime, but it was still an exciting offer because she liked him and she liked the car, and with some minor pangs about abandoning the rest of us she accepted.

So, that wasn’t horrible for me—just incredibly lame. With the travel time involved it was a total waste of an evening. The memory stings more because it was just the beginning of my being totally dropped as a friend as she got more and more into the guy. I have had other friends get married without that happening, so ultimately I guess we weren’t friends, we were pals, and I was disposable. It hurt a lot though, because it was happening at a time when I really needed a friend.

The fact that I am calling my best memory the best probably makes me kind of mean, but that won’t be the first time.

It was another group activity, but this time it was the corn maze. The sign said “haunted” after a certain date that was already past, but I was not sure what that meant. Although there were many of us, I was primarily with two girls, Annie and Danica, and Danica’s enthusiasm was boiling over. She wanted to run off in a separate direction, ignoring the maps and turning off the flashlights, and we humored her. She was skipping quite a ways ahead, and as she turned a corner she suddenly stopped, screamed, and starting running back towards, and then past us.

I was kind of curious about this, so I went up to look around the corner. It was an evil clown. I mean, not regular clown evil—real evil. She was crouching on the ground wearing a black cloak, a shock of read hair sticking up ala heat miser, the red nose with eye and mouth makeup, and carrying a knife. (The knife was obviously plastic, but the intent was still clear.)

Well, that explained it, so I nodded and turned around to go back to my friends. I could see that Danica had made it quite a ways and Annie was going after her. As I started towards them, the clown started following me. I thought, okay, the clown needs to be scary, I need to make up some distance, fine, I’ll jog. I’m not much of a jogger, but okay, the clown gave up, and I made it back to my friends.

Annie was holding Danica’s arms trying to help her get a grip, and as I got closer I could hear Danica saying “I hate clowns. I wish we hadn’t come.” That’s when it hit me—she was actually scared! I mean, I guess I kind of thought she had been startled by the clown and then with her natural enthusiasm it went a little over the top, but no, it was genuine fear. We met back up with the main group, but the rest of the night was ruined for her because all she could think about was whether or not the clown would show up again. (I did actually see her again, but she was in another area and I did not point her out.)

Anyway, because I am a jerk, I found it incredibly amusing. I did feel sorry for her and try to help her, but it was also funny. I guess I had some sense of exhilaration from not being scared.

You see, I was always scared of haunted houses in the past, and would refuse to go in them. Even the one at Disneyland I could barely be gotten into as a kid, and I once stayed alone in a car for an hour and a half while other people went through the Haunted Caves. Then comes this watershed moment where I realize there is nothing to be scared of. They can’t hurt you. They can’t even touch you without getting sued. (That is a recent development by the way. Back in the day they would not only touch you at the Haunted Caves, I know people who were picked up and carried places.)

I had a similar change with roller coasters that go upside down, going from no way to just abandoning all fears and loving it. Getting over fear is good.

In the case of haunted houses, I then started going to many, and was able to refine my theory. In groups, the ideal combination is to have one person who completely suspends disbelief, one who does not suspend it at all, and then some in between. That way you have the person who pulls you in to increase the excitement (or amusement), and the anchor who can pull you back out if things get too scary.

And the actors know who is whom. When we went to the Triple Maze of Terror and Haunted Dungeon at PGE Park, there was always a monster following Karen. When we went to the 13th Door, one ghoul followed Little Sister M into the parking lot. The sadistic side of me thinks that rocks, but my nice side will make you hot cocoa and tell you jokes until you feel better.

Lastly, when I was pointing out the issue of them not being able to touch you in the corn maze, someone raised the point of yes, but what if an escaped murderer ends up here at the same time? She felt that with her luck, if it happened to anyone it would happen to her.

First of all, I just like my odds on that one; I think I will be okay. However, I have thoughtfully prepared a list of three trouble signs that will let you know when to take things more seriously.

1. They touch you.
2. Their weapons are made of metal, not plastic.
3. They are not teenagers.

It’s not a given that they are bad at that point, but you should at least be ready to act defensively. And really, you should always know a few self-defense moves, regardless of your location. My favorite is a swift knee to the groin.