I went to a haunted house last night with a group of friends. No, I didn’t have any teenagers with me and yes, I thought (more than once) that I’m probably a little too old for that kind of thing. At least, too old to go without the excuse of “I’m accompanying my thirteen year-old nephew.” The thing is, though, I love haunted houses. I love the costumes and the make-up and the props and the thrill of knowing that at any moment someone’s going to jump out in front of me and make my heart race. It’s hard to say what it is exactly that I love about being scared, but I really do LOVE. IT.
Just for clarification, I would not enjoy it if I thought for one moment there were any chance I could actually be hurt. Being in true danger isn’t a thrill. I’m not a masochist. It’s just that, when I know there’s no real danger, I feel free to enjoy the adrenaline and the anticipation that accompanies being scared. I know some folks who think that makes me strange, abnormal, crazy, even. But, whatever. Get your kicks where you can, I say. And I get mine every October from the slew of newly-released horror movies (speaking of which, less than a week to Sinister!), Halloween parties and haunted houses and hayrides. And I look forward to these cheap thrills all year.
I’m certainly not an adrenaline junkie. I don’t participate in Xtreme sports or generally engage in reckless behavior. (Although, sky-diving is on my bucket list.) But I’ve always loved all things spooky. I’ve been watching horror flicks since I can remember and Halloween has always been my favorite holiday. The more macabre, the better.
And, just for my own curiosity, I’d like to know if I really am that abnormal in my love of all that is grim and grisly. Leave a comment with your take on this hallowed and most ghoulish of seasons. Or, if you’re pressed for time, a simple yes or no (abnormal or not) will suffice.
Have a great weekend. 🙂