Sunday, October 14, 2007

Redneck step-uncles: the best kind of redneck uncle.

You know how I've been having issues with feeling like reality is surreal? Well, the worst thing to do in that state of mind is go to a haunted house. I was scared shitless. Ryter's knuckles suffered quite a bit.

Loquelo, Loquelo's housemate Quiesa, Ryter and I went to the Haunted Acres in Epping, where they've got two haunted houses, a haunted maze, and a haunted walk through the woods. Ryter had never been to a haunted house before. We went to the Haunted Saloon/Mineshaft first, where I made the mistake of going last, and thus was the victim of the various monsters who followed us a bit too closely. Quiesa would scream bloody murder when people jumped out, which made the whole thing five times scarier. It was all Western-themed. Ryter said "Hi" to all the actors, just randomly.

The next one was the Atomic House, designed to show nuclear fallout. For this one they gave us 3-D glasses, which did make the whole thing very psychedelic and a bit like an acid trip, but which also, alas, refused to stay on, and when they were on they made it very hard to find my footing on the floor, which went up and down at random times. I wound up taking them off for the uneven parts. The strobe lights were a challenge, though. At one point someone jumped out at me while I was messing with the glasses and I shrieked, which was one of the few times Ryter actually admitted he got scared.

Then we went to the maze, which was just that-- a maze-- only in almost complete darkness, with hidden doors from which costumed people would wander out, surprise us, and follow us. We got lost a few times, and this one guy with a meat cleaver who looked exactly like Loquelo in the darkness got between Ryter, Quiesa and I and Loquelo, and trapped us in a dead end. Thankfully they weren't allowed to touch us so we got past him, but he followed us all the way to the exit and scared the CRAP out of Quiesa. Meanwhile Ryter and Loquelo were laughing, and they both have these high-pitched, creepy laughs that weren't really helping matters.

Then we finished by doing the quarter-mile Nightmare Walk through the woods. First guy we see has this big-ass sword and comes running straight at Quiesa, raising it in the air. She shrieked and cowered. Of course he didn't touch her, but she was crying as she laughed afterwards. The walk was by far the scariest. Even Ryter was scared, at least until he figured out the pattern of where the people were hiding, waiting to jump out at us. There was a six-foot-high dragon, lots of ghouls and witches, and a guy with a real, running chainsaw that smelled terrible. I admit, my heart was in my throat. The fact that we were in the woods-- and thus there was real wilderness on either side, and we accidentally went off the path once, and it was REALLY dark in spots-- made it much worse.

Ryter LOVED it. Especially the Atomic House and the walk, of course. He had a ball. Me, not so much. I don't like being really scared, and the fact that I have had trouble with reality vs. fantasy lately was making it very, very hard. I didn't realize it would be that bad. Still, it was fun, and I'm glad I went with someone whose hand I could grab onto and basically not let go of the entire time...

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Yesterday was Ryter's grandfather's engagement party. Basically, like 40 people of his extended family on his dad's side, all gathered together in this little ranch house... It wasn't that bad. It was a bit claustrophobic at times, but everyone was really nice, and Ryter's favorite uncle was there from LA as a surprise, which was cool. Plus we got to laugh at the antics of his redneck soon-to-be step-uncles in many different levels of sobriety.

Ryter has learned that his uncle, a man he and his entire family does not like, is paying for the bar bill at the wedding (which will be one day after I turn 21, incidentally). Thus, he and much of his family has decided to get as plastered as is humanly possible, as fast as possible.

I will be driving us back from this wedding, methinks.

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