The Dark Side of Fun

For thirteen years I have worked every weekend in October at a Halloween attraction called The Haunted Woods sponsored by The Bear Den Zoo in Waterford Wisconsin. It has become such a part of my life that most people who know me don’t even bother asking me to do anything in October because they already know I’m busy. It’s the only thing I plan for. Much like people look forward to hunting season, I look forward to Haunting season.




I started working at The Woods when a girl I was “sort of” seeing, who is related to the family who runs it, asked if I’d be interested in working there. I said sure! I showed up to the planning meeting and introduced myself and was assigned to work an area in the first 1/3rd of the trail. I have worked that same area every year except once when I was at the other end in one of the final scenes. Over the years I have seen and experienced enough craziness to provide me, a storyteller, with hours of material. I have also had the opportunity to study humanity in a specific setting and talk with many people about what frightens them and the whole horror genre in general.

I generally get asked three questions when it is discovered I work at a haunted attraction. The first question is -
“What are you dressed up as?”
My answer is usually,
“Something terrifying, if you want more detail, come and see for yourself.”

This is not an attempt at being a jerk, it is an attempt to get people to buy a ticket and check out this event. I also like to keep a bit of mystique around my character so people don’t call me out when they see me in a scene.

The second question is -
“How Scary is it?”
My answer is usually,
“….umm, I don’t know, it depends. How well do you handle horror movies?”

Horror is a vastly subjective concept. What makes me chuckle might keep someone else awake and crying in a corner for weeks.

The third question is –
“Why do you do it?”
My answer is usually,
“I love doing it!”

This answer is NEVER acceptable on its own. People want to know if I get paid really well, am I some sort of weirdo, or if there are “perks” to the job. In truth, there is reimbursement for time spent working how ever I wouldn’t call it being “well paid”. Anyone who is familiar with me knows I proudly consider myself a weirdo and I have no idea what the hell the “perks” of this job would be. I don’t get free passes to the event to give out if that’s what they’re asking.
My initial answer is still the most honest answer. I genuinely love being a part of this event every year. It’s an improvisational interactive theatrical performance. What I do in our scene is also very physically demanding. I enjoy the feeling of working all my muscles as I’m running, jumping, crouching, and stalking! It is different every time someone enters our scene because everyone entering our scene is different. Some people can go through multiple times and react different each time. It is meant as entertainment which, for me, means even if I fail to get a scare out of them, I will try to get a laugh out of them. My goal is to make sure they have a good time while they’re in the woods.

You learn, if you put forth the effort, which people to interact with. Most people who pay to go to these events love the exhilaration of being scared and for the actor attempting to scare people; it’s a rush when you get them going real good! More often then not when I’m working a crowd, I have a giant grin on my face which is why I wear a mask. I can be right in on someone, just laying it on and they are screaming with full wind but I still see the smile on their face. Sometimes audience members conspire to help me by distracting a target just long enough for me to get in position which is usually right behind them with my face about 6” away from them so when they turn I can roar in their face and get them going crazy! With this sort of proximity there comes physical contact. The official policy is “you don’t touch me and I won’t touch you.” However, basic survival instinct means inevitably I sometimes make contact. During the course of my “scaring career” I have been slapped, shoved, punched, kicked, groped, kissed, lap-danced, and propositioned. I’ve had all sorts of acts offered just so I would stop scaring them. I’ve posed for photos and been given hundreds of high-five’s and fist-bumps. As I said, it is very interactive. You learn who’s reacting normal and acceptable and who is actually trying to hurt people or be a jerk. If someone is acting inappropriately our security team hears about it and those people are dealt with up to and including a call to the police. Most of the time contact with an audience member is a harmless incident and one of the badges of honor you earn as an actor.




You learn who’s scared and loving it, who’s terrified at the moment but will be able to laugh about it eventually, and who is having a real problem dealing with the experience.
I try to coach the other actors in the scene on how to deal with people who just can’t handle the intensity of this event. Sometimes you can get away with just backing off and letting them go and sometimes they need to be allowed to pass up a scene. On occasion we will get someone who is so upset by their experience that they cannot continue. When this occurs in our scene, I usually have one of the actors walk them on a path that leads out and around the attraction so they have a chance to calm down and regain some composure before they leave. The actor that usually does this works as a lifeguard and she is really good at getting people to calm down. She also has first aid training which helps her deal with the occasional person under the influence. Dealing with an audience who might be drunk or stoned is a part of this experience. On the whole though, the majority of the people who come through are having a good time. We get several compliments from people who are impressed with the costumes, the sets and the energy. We also get complimented if we really make someone jump. This is the one time when screaming and running away could illicit a “Thank You” from someone.



I have had the privilege to work with some outstanding people in the woods over the last thirteen years. I have made many friends and shared some great memories. I always look forward to seeing everyone each year and catching up. This year the leader of the scene before mine collected several photographs and assembled a pretty great video. I asked Perry Claeys if I could upload his video to share in this post.

Check This Out.



So there you have it, a small introduction to a very big part of my life. I’m very proud of how far The Haunted Woods has come in the years I’ve been working there. Talking with the organizers, it sounds like even bigger and better things are planned for next year so come on out and see for yourself. It won’t kill you. Heh heh heh…

5 things that terrify me

For Halloween I thought I’d throw out 5 things that take the string right out of my spine and reduce me to a quivering pile of sissy putty. These are in alphabetical order because they rate differently on my terror scale from time to time.

1. The Dentist

There are a couple of reasons this profession is on the list and it is the only fear on this list I am actively trying to conquer but when someone asks me about fear, this one comes up fairly quickly.



2. The Brown Recluse Spider

I am not a fan of any sort of arachnid but the Brown Recluse Spider, or more precisely, the effect of its bite makes me want to encase myself in Adamantium.



3. Pennywise the Clown


Clowns, as a rule, don’t bother me. Pennywise, however, is the sole reason I steer clear of sewer drains and old timey photos.



4. The Ring

I don’t think any other movie I’ve ever seen bothered me as much as this one. That one little half second “cat-scare” at the beginning of the movie was enough to render me nearly incapable of going near my closet for weeks afterward. (shudder)



5. Wasps

Actually, anything that flies and looks like it might sting has the ability to send me flailing about like a stork on acid. Wasps are the worst because they are the alcoholic asshole of the flying, stinging, doom of the insect world. Yes, I know, swatting at them only irritates them and if you don’t show fear blah, blah, blah, whatever!I Don't Care! They Suck!!

No canoe is good canoe

A while back I went up to the U.P. with my friend Andy to check out a mining festival (details on that HERE) held every year in Caspian Michigan. Considering our interest in blacksmithing, this seemed like a great chance to do some research on the subject. It also turns out that Andy’s grandmother lives up there and his folks have a house on a lake in the area so we planned on staying there while we were up there. Once we arrived, we unloaded our stuff and went to have dinner with Andy’s grandmother. After dinner we went back to the house and Andy suggested we take the canoe out on the lake. I said that was a great idea, I haven’t been in a canoe since I was in middle school. So we got the canoe down by the pier and I stood looking at it. Andy explained that I should sit up front and he would sit in the rear because he was more experienced in canoeing than I was. With some coaching I got into the canoe and sat down.

It was right about then I noticed a slight sense of unease begin to poke around my consciousness. As Andy got in and we sunk a little lower in the water the unease gradually gained some strength and emerged as agitation. Since I can, sort of, swim and I’ve been in a canoe before, I berated myself for this childish behavior. However, as we began paddling out into the lake and as my movements seemed to cause the canoe to wiggle like a hula girls hips, my agitation erupted into near full blown panic. I immediately grabbed the sides of the canoe and began informing Andy that I was fully content with our journey and would be interested in returning to the dock. In fact I think my precise phrasing was something like-

“OKwellthatsaboutenoughofthisimgoodtogobackwecangobacknowbacktothedockthatwouldbegoodthankyouverymuch!!!”

Andy tried to reassure me everything was fine but I would not be dissuaded so Andy, being quite the talented Scout, put the canoe in reverse and took us back where I clambered out of the canoe and reassessed my world with the new knowledge that I’ve become a sissy with regards to small water vessels. I previously had no idea this was the case. With my dignity in ruins we headed out to check out a local bar and after watching some extreme sports and winning a couple of games of pool, my machismo was sufficiently restored and we retired back to the house to watch action movies and crash.

As I think about this situation, I don’t believe my interactions with canoes are at an end. I’d like to overcome this, what I consider a, ridiculous fear so I will keep you updated. Until then, hook me up with a pontoon boat or leave me on the shore.

A Sunday Morning Chat

Yesterday was Sunday, September 11th. It was the 10 year anniversary. Like many people in America that day, I was spending it with my family. My usual routine on Sunday is to go over to my parent’s house so this wasn’t out of the ordinary. I stopped to fill up the gas tank on my truck as I was heading out there. This is also fairly common place. I had a conversation at the pump which was not particularly common. This is a story about that conversation.



After putting the fuel nozzle away, I was putting the gas cap back on my tank when I heard a man from behind me say,

- “Excuse me young man, not that I am not also a young man - heh heh”

I turned around to see a man maybe in his early 40’s dressed in tan pants and a white striped button up shirt un-tucked, sort of a casual look. He appeared hygienically sound, not extensive body odor, shoes tied, maybe a day or so since his last shave and dark aviator sunglasses. In short, he didn’t look out of place for a relaxed Sunday morning at a gas station. He certainly looked a little more together than I did. I was wearing a green T-shirt, cut-off camouflaged cargo pants with a rip in the seat, my dirty work cap, boots and safety sunglasses with a solid three days growth on my face.

- I replied with a friendly smile “Heh-heh, how’s it going?”

- He said “I’m just fine. I was wondering how you’re feeling now that November 1st is coming up?”

I frantically scanned the current events bulletin board in my brain but say nothing for November 1st that this guy could be asking about.

- I stammered “I, uh, I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”

- He said “Wisconsin’s Concealed Carry Law goes into effect, what do you think?!”

I was thinking about what a precarious position I may have just found myself in. The Concealed Carry Law is a very controversial topic in Wisconsin right now and the opposing parties can get quite riled up on the subject. Add to that the fact that this guy is starting a conversation like this on a politically and emotionally charged day like September 11th and the volatility of the situation sky-rockets. I have no idea what this guys point of view is or his motives for striking up this little chat with me. I’ve been attacked under the guise of an innocent conversation before so I’m leery.

However, I decide to answer him honestly and tell him I agreed with the law and I think it’s about time we got it passed here in Wisconsin. He asked me if I’ve been to a training class yet so I can get my permit the day it goes into effect and I tell him that I have not.

-He says “Well, what are you waiting for man! You’re going to have to wait in line and that could take a while.”

- I explain “I can afford to go to any of the classes right now. I actually want to wait until they work out the inevitable problems that are going to crop up once this law goes into effect. Plus, I don’t even own a handgun. If I can’t afford the class and permit I sure can’t afford a gun.”

- He asks “Why don’t you own a gun?”

I then tell him I own a couple of rifles but I am just now learning about firearms. I am learning about the different types, their safe operation, maintenance and storage, and deciding what make and model of gun I want or even if I want one.”

- “Why wouldn’t you want one? Don’t you want to be able to protect yourself and your property?” He asked me in a shocked tone of voice.

I explain that I’m not too worried about property loss. If someone wants what I have badly enough to steal it or pull a gun on me, they can have it. There is nothing I own that I will die for. I might give you a hell of a fight for some of it if it’s human against human but once the mortality rate rises, I lose interest quickly.

As for protecting myself, I’ve made it 36 years defending my life without a gun. Short of a complete collapse of modern society, I’m pretty sure I could find my way to the end of my road without needing one. I am a 6’ 1” male, broad built, coming in at just under 300lbs. I am not what you would call an immediate physical target.

- He asks me “Why even bother to get the permit if you don’t have the guts to use it.”

- I said “It’s not a matter of “guts”, it’s a matter of practicality. The majority of places I frequent are likely to post signs prohibiting guns in their facility. That is their right and I respect it. That would mean I have to leave my gun in my car where and jack-ass can break a window and steal it. Now a criminal has MY gun. It has nothing to do with “having the guts to use it” and it’s that attitude that is providing some of the support for the anti-gun crowd.”

- He says “Well, I just meant why go through all that if you’re not convinced you’ll use it.”

- I said “I want to be able to have the legal option to carry if I feel it necessary. I also think training is a great thing. Knowledge is a great thing. The more you know about things the less scary they are.”

This seems to make us friends again because he starts quoting statistics (a small pet peeve of mine) and joking about popular Hollywood gun myths seen in movies. I banter with him for a couple more minutes because it seems he’s starting to work his way toward an end.

He says “Well, it was good talking with you. Good luck to you when you decide it get your permit.”

He extends his hand to shake and now I have to decide whether or not I’m going to touch this man’s hand. Most of the time it’s an automatic response; you want to shake, bang, here’s your hand shake. Most of the time, however, the shake doesn’t follow a semi-awkward potentially conflict ridden conversation with a stranger.

In the end, I shook his hand because he never really gave off a vibe I was worried about. As I mentioned, I’ve found myself mixed up in some unpleasant interactions with people and living in downtown Waukesha you run into people who aren’t always clear minded so you get a sense of who’s going to be trouble and who isn’t. This guy just seemed like he wanted to have a conversation with a fellow gun enthusiast and given that I was a large guy dressed in wannabe army garb standing next to a truck he thought he could be open. Whatever the case was we parted ways with a hand shake and a smile. I don’t know about the rest of that guy’s day, but I know he had a bright point talking with me at gas pump number 1 on Grand Avenue in Waukesha. I certainly came away with something; Yet another Wacky World of Waukesha story.

(Note – For those with differing opinions of the concealed carry law who feel affronted by the view expressed here, please feel free to review the first post on this blog HERE. Thanks)

Perspective

I had an experience the other day that got me thinking. I was walking to my apartment after work and across the street ahead of me was a group of kids in their early teens screwing around and heading, generally in the same direction as I was going. It was a mix of 3 girls and 4 boys. I saw one of the boys pretend like he was going to lift the shirt up on one of the girls. He was not even close to serious about it and was easily 12 to 14 inches from even touching her. She said “It won’t matter, I’m wearing a bikini top underneath!” to which he (because he’s a guy) replied “I’ll still see ‘em!” No one seemed off put from this exchange and the group didn’t even stop its casual northern movement up the street.

Being that I’m easily a foot and a half taller then any of these kids I caught up with them and moved to the outside of the side walk in order to pass them without slowing down. Once the kids noticed me and saw I was heading in their direction the group came to an immediate halt most of them with their faces aimed at their sneakers looking like cats covered in canary feathers. One of the kids said “Hello Mister.” I said hello. Another kid asked for a high five so I gave him one. He joked about having his arm torn off. Everyone laughed; I smiled as I moved on past them.

As I made my way to my apartment, I reflected on being that age and hanging out with my friends. I tried to imagine how they perceived me. I’ve been told I can be an intimidating individual and my normal facial posture is sometimes confused with a look of anger or disapproval. Did they think I was going to scold them or something? They probably thought I was a mature adult and wouldn’t appreciate their “Tom-Foolery.” Little do they know I saw almost the same scene happen in a bar a few weeks earlier with people twice their age! I see myself as a young guy still trying to get the hang of this whole “adult life” thing I living. I get together with my friends and laugh, play games, tell jokes and stories way, WAY worse then these kids have ever experienced. I astound myself with my immaturity at times. I even joked about this situation on Facebook! FACEBOOK!!

How am I even remotely an adult? I’m a walking disaster of confusion and insecurity. I’m like a teenager without the acne, wondering what’s going to happen tomorrow or if there is even going to be a tomorrow! I wake up every morning panicked about everything I have to do in the teeny tiny amount of time I have on this planet. Constantly wondering if I’m going to walk my road alone or with someone by my side; whether or not I want to start a family. Who will notice when I’m gone.

Then I do the math and realize I started working at my current job before any of those kids were born.

Whoa!

I could, in fact, be any one of those kids’ dads!

WHOA!!

Talk about a reality shot!

I stop and take a breath. Look everything over and decide that it’s because of all of those things that I am an adult. Being a teenager was something that ended for me almost 17 years ago when I turned 20. Most of what I can remember from those years was a deep desire to get the hell out of school and start working for a living mixed with a mild panic about not knowing what I wanted to do for the rest of my life and a keen interest in girls I didn’t have the confidence to talk to. Time didn’t seem to be as big a deal as it is to me currently. Nowadays, I seem to feel Every. Grain. Of. Sand. Slip through my fingers. There are many things I can attribute my chronological hyper-awareness to but it doesn’t matter. In the end, I don’t want to end up feeling like I wasted my time here so I try to do what ever I can think of doing. There are plenty of arguments about how to best utilize ones life and I’m not going to delve into that ocean of pontification. I’m always open for a discussion about these things but here is not the place for it. Here is just a place for me to babble about the racket that ricochets within my brain.

So have I gained anything from this experience? Have I discovered the differences in the perception of me? Have any of the last 800 words made a difference in anything.

Probably not.

Those reading this may have their opinions of me swayed a bit but I don’t expect anyone’s’ life will be changed for better or worse. This is not new ground for my inner dialogue either. I sometimes contemplate how the cover of my book is read by others. I can sometimes be consumed by self-consciousness. But today, I just think to myself “Hmm..that was interesting.”