JULY 29, 2007

"I live with snakes and lizards and other things that go bump in the night, 'Cuz to me every day is Halloween..."   - Ministry

35 years ago, a young boy nervously entered a darkened theme park holding tightly onto his mother’s hand, ready to experience a one-of-a-kind Halloween event.  Before the night was over he had ridden The Ghostway Express into the depths of the earth, traveled up the mountain into Satan’s Sawmill, got attacked by monsters like Dracula and The Mummy, and then watched his hero, The Most Sinister Man To Crawl On The Face Of The Earth, crack wise at old horror movies.

He was an incredibly happy, very lucky 10-year-old boy.  And I am he.

Ever since I can remember, I’ve loved spooky, scary things.  I was the kid who drew vampires for my elementary school art projects (even at Christmas and Easter), who spent entire weekends putting together models of Godzilla or The Wolfman, and who, naturally, started planning out his next Halloween costume on November 1st.

That first Halloween Haunt was, literally, a dream come true for me.

Tomorrow, another dream will come true.  Tomorrow, I’ll be at Knott’s Berry Farm, taking my first nervous step on the road to becoming a Haunt Monster.

Nervous?  Oh, yes.  For many, many years, I saw Haunt as the “holy grail” of Halloween events, the pinnacle of what could be achieved in the fine sport of haunting, given enough talent, money and time.  Year after year, I returned, and Knott’s upped the ante, creating more scares, better mazes and wilder characters.  Even after I moved to San Francisco and began my own haunting career up there, I still looked to the Haunt for inspiration, for encouragement, and…well…for ideas to “borrow” for my own event.  Haunt was it, as far as I was concerned, and everything I did was but a pale imitation.

Up north, not only was I a maze monster and a street monster, I was also the guy who auditioned, trained, and supervised all the monsters.  Not only did I help build the mazes, I also designed the themes and the individual rooms, the props and the scares.  I have a lot of experience, as well as a huge number of friends who already work Haunt and are welcoming me with open arms.  Paws.  Claws.  Whatever.

And yet — and yet —

I feel like that nervous 10-year-old boy again.

Halloween Haunt is one of my favorite places in the world.  After 35 years, I feel I know every nook and cranny of the Scary Farm, all the hiding places, the best and worst mazes, the shows to line up for and the ones to miss — and all from a guest’s point of view.

But from the other side of the veil?  As a Haunt Monster?  What will my experiences be?  How different is Haunt when viewed from behind the mask?  How does it actually feel to transform from Haunt’s biggest fan to Haunt’s newest monster?

Over the next month or so, we’ll travel that road together, you and I.  Oh, there might be a few detours along the way, a pit-stop or two, but eventually we’ll get there.

Can you smell the fog?  Can you hear the howling wind?  Don’t be nervous — here, take my hand.  It’s almost time for rope-drop...

August 12, 2007

“Tell me what company thou keepst, and I’ll tell thee what thou art.”  - Miguel Cervantes

The night before my hiring event, I got more sleep than I thought I would.  When my head hit the pillow, I remember thinking, “Oh, man, I am so excited about tomorrow I will never get to slee—“

And then I woke up eight-and-a-half hours later.  I think I excited myself into exhaustion.

I only changed my shirt twice before I settled on what to wear to my first official Haunt Hire (although, admittedly, I’d been thinking about what to wear for weeks), and then it was off to a pre-hire lunch with a few monster friends, including Bunny, Sumo and Hollywood.

I tried really hard to appear nonchalant while we ate and joked and compared cell phone rings (a monster’s free time is exciting, eh?), but inwardly, I just kept thinking: “…in an hour-and-a-half…right down the street…I’ll be at Knott’s…with all my friends… becoming a monster…”

After lunch (you’re right, Sumo, I should have tried a hush puppy…), we all caravanned over to Knott’s, found parking, and then walked towards the employee entrance.

We were a little early, but they let us in anyway to start the process.  I passed by the security booth and, with little-to-no fanfare, there I was: backstage.  Right next to the infamous Warehouse P.  Walking towards the hiring area, I tried hard to not be such a tourist, but I couldn’t stop myself.  My neck craned this way and that, checking out the stacks of wood marked for mazes, props waiting to be installed, hearses with skeletons — oh, it was almost too much for little Haunt-starved Uncle Mike!

So close to becoming a monster that I could taste it.  It tasted like…like…

Paperwork.

About 25 double-sided pages to complete, date and sign.

Today’s password has now been changed.  The new password is: Hand cramp.

We all hunkered down with our pens and started skritch-skratching our way through the stack.  One by one, we finished the very thorough papers (and I’m not sure I wrote the right address for my residence back in 2004…), turned them in and waited to be called.

As we waited (and waited…), there were lots of jokes and stories tossed around, playful insults and friendly banter; the kind of good-natured ribbing that comes from battle-scarred veterans.  Many monsters recognized me and came up to say hi and to congratulate me on becoming a monster (but a few were puzzled, knowing me only as a fan, and asking, “Are you here for…support?”).  It felt comfortable, like I’d been here many times before.

My name was called and I went in and met my Talent Captain, answered a few questions, filled out more papers, and then it was off to the Employee Center.

And that is… er… where?

Big John was nice enough to guide me in the right direction.

I signed in on the clipboard at the Employee Center, and waited (and waited…) for someone to check and double-check my paperwork.

Then, it was over to Wardrobe to sign in on another clipboard and wait (and wait…) to be fitted for my costume.  Three shirts and two vests later, the right combination is found, and I’m free to go.

Naturally, I wander back to the first hiring area.  I don’t want to leave just yet, so I spend the rest of the afternoon (and early evening) chatting, joking, taking a backstage tour with Sumo and ThemeParkMan, and greeting new arrivals as old friends.  Some I’d never met before, others I’d only known online, and the rest I’d actually become friends with in person, but they all made me feel like an immediate member of the Haunt family.  This is the camaraderie monsters speak of and defend so vigorously, this is the family that truly crosses all boundaries of age, gender, blood, skin color and economics.  If you scare, you are one of us.  You are Haunt family.

Finally, today’s password is: Family.

One of us.  Gooble, gobble.

September 17, 2007

In just a few hours, I’ll be headed to my first-ever street monster orientation at Knott’s.

The nervousness I wrote about in my earlier chapters is still there, just kind of hanging at the back of my brain like a quiz for which I never studied: I hope I know what’s gonna be on the thing, but there’s not much sense in worrying about it now.

The jitters are slowly but surely being replaced by a grim sort of determination, a feeling that, no matter what kind of haunting experience I’ve had previously (and, he asides, hoping he doesn’t sound too immodest, I’ve had more than my fair share), I still have a lot to prove once my boots hit the street.

The other monsters I’ve met and befriended so far (particularly my immediate Haunt family in the Silver Bullet Mine Town) have been incredibly gracious, supportive, and nothing but overly positive about my joining up.

Yet, I still sense a small hesitation from some monsters.  I sometimes get the feeling that I won’t really be considered one of the family until the very end of the Haunt run, when, after 27 long, sweaty and tiring nights, I’m still standing amongst them.  Maybe then I can prove to them that a middle-aged, out-of-shape fan-boy with soft hands can still be a great Haunt monster.

Or maybe I just need to prove it to myself.

(a little over six hours later…)

Epilogue:

Okay, I’m ready.  I am so ready.  I want Haunt to start now; tonight.  The next 8 days of waiting will be my hell week.

The orientation was pretty much what I expected, with a few nice surprises tucked away here and there (although this is the first orientation I’ve ever attended that made use of stage lighting and local news cameras).

After filling out even more paperwork (my first piece of advice for future monsters: practice printing and then signing your name a few hundred times), we got settled into our seats (which, as you might expect when dealing with over a hundred streeters, took a while).  Representatives from upper management, human resources and security talked to us about assorted issues, we got a sneak peek at a new Haunt commercial that might (or might not) be on-air in our local market (Cedar Fair now has other “Haunts” across the country, remember), there was a nice moment honoring two monsters that had recently passed on (and this year’s Haunt is dedicated to their memory), and The Goblin and The Witch were both given nifty plaques (and some awesome videos of them both were shown) to commemorate 25 years of service at Haunt.

Wow.  25 years.  They started at Haunt when I was barely out of high school.

And, at the extreme opposite end of the spectrum, Craig, our supervisor, announced that there were some people in the crowd who had never been street monsters before.  He started naming those people to stand up… and never mentioned me.

Frankly, I kind of felt a little relieved.  That was one short-lived feeling.

Naturally, about 10 of my bestest buddies in the world started yelling out, “Uncle Mike!  Uncle Mike!”  Craig looked at me as I stood up, kinda chuckled and said, “Yeah, but he could teach me a few things, hehehe.”  It was a good-natured jab, and I laughed, but it also made me feel oddly validated.  And less nervous.

I stayed after with about 15 other street newbies to go through a mini-scare-school that got filmed (but not-yet-aired) for various news programs.  That was a major confidence-builder, because the exercises they had us do (“Okay, you’re an ancient 150-year-old hermit…” or “You’ve just been bitten by a werewolf…”) were the same kind of exercises I would have my own group of potential monsters audition with up north.

Afterward, I did what seems to be the typical Haunt-thang of hanging out and chatting with a few monster buddies (Rage and Red Wolf and Outlaw and Big John were, as usual, incredibly supportive and nice), and then I drove home, my mind chock-a-block full-to-bursting with Haunt.

It’s coming, and soon.  And I.  Am.  Ready.

September 23 - 26, 2007

I try on my entire Haunt costume for the first time: shoes, pants, suspenders, shirt, coat, mask, hat and assorted underthings.  I take a few quick steps, get a feel for the whole ensemble, turn my head quickly — hmmm… my mask isn’t fitting quite as well as I’d hoped.

I take off my mask, trim it a little, and try it on again.  Not quite right yet; it’s still bunching up around my shoulders.  I cut a bigger hunk off of one side — crap, I think I cut off too much.

I look for my sewing kit.

Three days to go…

I pack and re-pack my Haunt box* a few times, trying to get everything to fit, but the lid still won’t close.  I pull everything out, re-fold and stack neatly, and I still can’t latch the top shut.

Uh oh.

I pull off the top tray, re-arrange some stuff, moving all the clothing to one side and all the props to the other side.  I replace the tray and lid, push down, and realize I squished my hat.

But the latches close.

I need to do something to take my mind off my shmooshed chapeau.

I go to Disneyland.

*Haunt box (hawnt boks) n. a rolling tool chest filled with items useful for haunting (e.g., costume, noisemakers, knee pads, gloves, aspirin, bandages, etc.)

Two days to go…

Tonight is Dress Rehearsal (Part I) and I’m totally excited.  When I first decided to become a monster, the one thing that actually brought a smidgen of sadness (and caused me to second-guess myself) was the thought that I might be missing out on the mazes.

Never fear (hehehe), because I was quickly informed that as a street monster, I get to attend both dress rehearsals and see all the mazes before the general public.  Yay!

We all gather at the employee entrance at dusk, and are quickly escorted through Black Widow’s Cavern, Feary Tales, Lore of the Vampire, 13 Axe Murder Manor, The Doll Factory and Lost Vegas.

Since it’s very hard to actually frighten most of us, the good scares are met with appreciative rounds of applause and shouts of “Good job!” instead of screams (okay, to be honest, a few of us are easily scared and do scream).

I shan’t say much about specifics here; some mazes “mesh” better than others and some monsters need to work a little harder at scaring (but it can be difficult to get into character without make-up).

After talking with many monsters, however, there definitely was a strong consensus on one point: The Doll Factory will seriously mess you up.

1 day to go…

I spend the morning practicing putting on and taking off my own eye-black before going out to buy a few last-minute items (some hand towels and a pair of sunglasses).  Then I go to visit my parents, seeing them for probably the last time until November.

I arrive at the employee entrance for Dress Rehearsal (Part II) and say “Hi” to most of the same folks that were here last night.  I know the routine now, and it makes me feel like I really belong here.  Walking through a deserted theme park shouldn’t feel this comforting to me — but it does.

We go through Pyromaniax, Killer Clown Kollege, The Grudge 2, Dark Realm (with guns), Red Beard’s Revenge, Beowulf and The Asylum.  I seriously feel like it’s Haunt already, and I’m visiting as a guest, experiencing all the mazes with my friends.  It makes Uncle Mike very happy.

After the mazes, we’re given a few treats: we get to see Hacks, and The Hanging, and Dr. Cleaver before we have to leave!  Awesome!  All three of those shows were rude, crude, socially inappropriate — and funny as hell.

I hug my goodbyes, and drive home, over six hours after I got there.  Even though all I did was walk around and talk with my buddies, I am really tired and sleepy when I finally turn the key in my lock.  I don’t bother fighting it, and go straight to bed.

0 days to go…

Fire this mother up.

September 28, 2007

I showed up at about 3:30 P.M. for my 5:30 P.M. call time.  I really wanted to make sure I had plenty of time to get ready — yeah, okay, and I just wanted to hang out, too.  Traffic wasn’t too bad, the security checkpoint was quick, check-in was nice and organized, and wardrobe was a breeze.

So there I sat, with about two hours to go, looking around at all my friends in various states of dress.  I was totally in my element, totally relaxed, joking around with Freak and Bubba and the other members of my Haunt family, and I decided to go get some of my costume on.

I put my cell phone, my camera, and my keys in my Haunt box, pad-locked it up, and went to the changing room.  With one leg in my jeans, I suddenly realized: my keys were inside my Haunt box, and the padlocks were outside the Haunt box.

I just locked myself out of my own Haunt box.  Nice.

I came back out and sat in front of the box, staring at the shining closed padlocks taunting me.  I guess the night was just going too smoothly, so the Haunt gods decided to throw me a curveball.  I’m thankful, at least, that Rick doesn’t get any pictures of that.

After a few tense moments, I figured out a solution (which I shan’t relate here) and I finished dressing.

Contacts: in.  Eye black: on.  We waited for the “all clear” signal, so we could walk out onto the streets while Skittles (I think it was him) blasted a few choice tunes to get the Mining Town monsters in the mood.

The announcement is made, I put my mask on, and drag my box to the onstage door.  A few shout-outs from some well-wishers and, quite unceremoniously, I cross the threshold into Ghost Town as a monster.

After dropping off my box, I make my way to the Silver Bullet Mining Town, have a short meeting with my Talent Captain, then walk the perimeter, getting a feel for the area.  I want to make sure I don’t go chasing people into any forbidden zones.

I see a few people lined up at the yellow chain.  Freak has invited me to go to rope-drop with him, but tonight I just need to watch, observe, and find my own way.  I stay behind and wait for them to come to me.

Pretty soon thereafter, I hear a small cheer and, without much warning, a group of guests are walking quickly toward us.

Running toward us, really.

Closer and closer they run, laughing, giggling.  They’re in my sights, I’ve found my first victims.  They run past a monster, dodge another one, and then are right in front of me.  This is gonna be awesome.

I make my move — and collide right into them.

Ouch.

I say a quick, “Sorry…” and keep walking.

After that rather rookie move, the rest of the night is kind of a blur.  Scare after scare, some more successful than others, over and over, walking, running, sneaking up, staring down… and the pictures.  Lots of lots of pics were snapped.

One broken noisemaker and one ripped glove later, it’s 12:30 A.M. and we are done for the night.  I walk back with my fellow monsters, tired, achy, but with a real sense of accomplishment.  I did it.  I finished my first night as a Haunt monster successfully, and I am more than ready to do this again.

Hehehe... I better be.

I get some nice compliments and kudos from Freak and Andros and others, and that makes me feel even better.  I respect these folks’ opinions so much and, if they’re telling me that I did good, then that’s better than any amount of screaming a guest can do.

Well, almost.  Hehehe...

I arrive home, exhausted, at about 2:00 A.M. and it takes a few minutes for me to climb carefully out of my car.  My Haunt box feels like it weighs a couple hundred pounds as I try to lift it out of my trunk.  Weird parts of me hurt: my second toe, and my teeth.  Don’t quite know what that’s all about.

I go to sleep quickly after a nice hot shower and only one thing is on my mind when I wake up: why the hell am I awake at 8:30 A.M?!?

TPA Was There As Uncle Mike Crossed The Veil - We Love You, Buddy!  Congratulations!

Editor's Note:  I have known Mike for ages, and I have spent countless hours discussing all aspects of Halloween Haunt with him through the years.  When he made the decision to move to Orange County and work at Knott's as a monster, it was a no-brainer that a fantastic story was in the making.  35 years in the making, if you will.

Once Mike and I settled on the Major Fan/Miner Monster project, it was written on the wall that TPA needed to be there to document Mike's transformation and crossing of the Veil as part of this feature.  This was the first time we'd attended Opening Night in years and we were excited but nervous - when we document Haunt, we have all the time in the world to get the shots we need.  Documenting Mike's first night from beginning to end was a major challenge that was frankly, very stressful - we had one shot to get it right.  A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to capture this intimate transformation for all TPA readers to experience collectively.

Watching Mike walk across Western Avenue with his Haunt box in tow was a moment that I will never forget; I choked up and got teary-eyed.  Knowing how much this meant to him, I was so proud to be there for this special moment.  The emotions ran high for me personally as we followed Mike from backstage into Ghost Town for the first time - I damn-near tripped over the lump in my own throat while trying to get ahead of him to shoot more pictures!

Being there when the rope dropped and seeing Mike engage his first victims - was one of those plateaus in my own Haunt history.  Not only did I know we were making a hell of a feature and TPA history by being the only people there to watch Haunt's ultimate fan become one of its own - I knew that I was witnessing a very intimate and very special moment in Mike's life; something he's been waiting for and dreaming about for a long, long time.  I felt truly blessed and honored to be there for this moment.  It is with great pride that we present images of Mike's first night as a monster at the Scary Farm...

September 30, 2007

“We sweat and laugh and scream here/’Cuz life is just a dream here/You know inside you feel right at home here.” – Alice Cooper, “Welcome To My Nightmare”

The devil, as always, is in the details.

My first night at Haunt, I lost three pounds.  Overnight.  I also blew my first Haunt booger* and bled my first drops from where my steel-toed boots cut into my flesh-and-blood toes.

I quickly switched over to my soft, comfortable Chucks for Saturday night.

Opening Night was nice and slow, allowing me to get my bearings and observe a lot of great scares.  I tried a few different tactics, ruined one pair of gloves and broke a noisemaker and my shaker can.  I shake vigorously, I guess.

I tried to make things even more indestructible the next day and everything seemed to hold together okay.  At least I didn’t break anything last night.

I did have some amazing scares, though.

Luckily, guests to the Farm have a really bad habit: calling each other by their real names.  Any monster worth his-or-her salt picks up on this fast.  Last night, one group called out to a very frightened friend, “Marina! Come on!”  That’s all I needed.  I waited until they were close to me (with my victim cowering in the middle of the group), raised my hand, pointed at her, and in the most disgusting, guttural voice I could possibly muster, moaned, “Maaaaariiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnaaaaaa…”

That’s all she needed as an excuse to try the 100-yard dash.  I chased her back and forth, into and around various groups of people, all the while repeating her name, over and over.

Good lord, this was fun.

As I continued with the evening, latching onto others’ scares here and there, creating my own out of thin air, always moving from one end of the mining town to the other, always watching, searching for my next victim, never stopping, I felt like a shark on the prowl, sniffing out the slightest trace of fear and turning it into a full-course fright.

I am completely in my element.  I am right at home.

*Haunt booger (hŏnt bŏŏg'ər) n. black-tinted, dried mucus resulting from the accumulation of dust and dirt in the nasal passages. See also: Faire booger

October 3, 2007

“Not for the frail of heart.” – Jill Tracy, “The Fine Art Of Poisoning”

They all warned me.  And I did nothing.  And now, I am paying for my arrogance.

Sunday night had very low attendance, and most of my evening was spent thusly: Scare someone, scare the same person again, scare them again, scare the person next to them, scare them again, then start all over an hour later when the same group comes through my zone again.

And again.

And again.

A few times, I could look from one end of SBMT to the other, and see a scare zone populated only by lonely monsters.

Since it was so dead, our Talent Captain asked a few of us if we were interested in leaving early.  About 10 of us took the offer and made our way back to the break area to clock out, and then continued home.

Monday was my first day off, and I spent it washing my costume and soaking in my parents’ hot tub.  I didn’t feel too achy or sore, but I really wanted to relax before haunting resumed on Wednesday.

On Tuesday, I spent the day catching up on my recorded TV programs.

And then I woke up Wednesday morn.  Early.

Ouch.

My sinuses were completely plugged up, turning me into a raspy mouth-breather with a pounding headache.  Wonderful.  I hoped that this was an allergy-thing and not a sinus-infection-thing while popping a couple antihistamines.

The rest of my body felt okay; just a little sore, but nothing major. 

I started taking some Airborne, just in case, and then went to a wonderful lunch with my good buddy, Bizarre (who is kicking all kind of butt over in The Doll Factory — be sure y’all say “Hi”).

Another slow night, but I noticed that even though I wasn’t being as vigorous in my scaring as before, my ankles and my knees had begun talking back to me.  Really talking back.  Yelling!

My knees began to feel like somebody had inserted tiny slivers of glass behind my kneecaps.  Every flex of those joints inserted more glass to grind between my bones.

My Achilles tendons were stretched and sore too, so I was getting a double-whammy when I walked.  I tried to do less moving and more hiding, but the pain kept growing anyway.

Soon, my thigh muscles were throbbing, adding to the fun and giving a kind of one-man-band-of-pain performance to my legs.

Phantom abrasions and mystery bruises (“How did I get that?!?”) have begun to appear on my body; badges of honor amongst monsters.  Band-aids are on my fingers and toes. 

They all warned me to take care of myself, to stretch beforehand, to pace myself.  Heck, it’s the same advice I gave to the group of monsters I used to supervise.

In the heat of the moment, I completely forgot it all. 

Ouch.

October 5, 2007

“Going to Haunt and complaining about being scared is like paying for a lap dance and suing for sexual harassment!” – a popular bumper sticker

What’s the deal?

Seriously, what is the deal?  Why do people spend up to $52.00 for a ticket to Knott’s Scary Farm’s Halloween Haunt (which is advertised as “not recommended for children under 13”), drag their small children along (many in strollers), and then… yep, you’re way ahead of me: complain when the kids get frightened?

Or, somehow even worse, they thrust their screamingly terrified kid at a monster to scare the kid more.

I am one of those monsters who has a firm, sadistic belief in the axiom, “If you wanna dance, you gotta pay the band.”  So, if you buy a ticket to the Haunt, I’m a-gonna scare ya.  As hard as I possibly can.

Yes, even if you’re six years old.

All us monsters got a mild talking-to recently: a few guests had complained about monsters being too scary to them.  This appeared to be a common complaint, probably for years, since most monsters chuckled knowingly at the news that they had been “too scary.”  Our supervisor nodded in a kind of, “Yeah, yeah, I know” way, but he also made it clear we should be aware of the thin line separating “scare” from “harass.”

Funny enough, that very night I had an amusing incident...

A group of about six adults, with two kids (yep, in strollers) were standing off to one side.  I was about 20 feet away, just kind of waiting for something to happen (it was a slow night).  Just staring off in the distance; not looking at them but kind of in their general direction.  Suddenly, the father yells at me, “Hey!  Hey!  Stop staring at my kid!  You’re scaring him too much!”

Now, I certainly focused on them and I stared right at the child in question.  And stared.  And stared.  The kid screamed even louder and tried to climb out of his stroller.

And the father turned around and ignored both of us.

Hehehe... I think I’ll be seeing that kid again in his nightmares!

October 8, 2007

“One two three, here we go/Bedlam, bedlam, ho ho ho.” – Napoleon XIV (Jerry Samuels), “Marching Off To Bedlam”

Friday and Saturday nights are killers.  The guests are louder, more touchy, more grabby, more screamy... more everything.

And there are lots of them.  Lots and lots.  One time, returning from a break, I walked into our roller coaster plaza (a pretty wide-open area) and was met by a humongous wall of humanity, with nary a sliver of open space in which to creep.

I held my breath and dove in anyway, scattering guests left and right. 

It’s good to be a monster.

But I think I was touched and grabbed and poked more this past weekend than in entire relationships I’ve had.  As I move from guest to guest, searching out the next fearful patron, I really have to become immune to the constant tap-tap-taps on my shoulder.  It’s human nature to want to turn around and find out just who the heck that is poking their index finger into my upper arm, and I just have to force myself to completely ignore it.

And then there are the lovely guests who, by shoving me hard in the back, completely blindsiding me, feel that they can now claim, “Ha!  I scared you!”  Note to these wonderful human beings: we’re monsters.  We really don’t scare all that easily.  Plus, we do it without shoving people.

Also, if it’s me you shove?  I will then keep an eye on you for the next few minutes and, when your back is turned… well, let’s just say revenge is a dish best served after sneaking up on you and getting really close to your ear.

“I like your mask!”  “Cool contacts!”  “Do you like your job?”  “Hey, sexy beast!”  “Rowrrrrrrr!”  These and more comments get flung at me over and over, ad nauseam, for six or seven hours every night.  And, again, my smart-alecky mouth wants to say something back at them all (good thing I wear a full-head mask, eh?  Hardly anyone can understand what I’m saying anyway…).

Last night, I freaked somebody out good.  She said, “I like your eyes!”  I stopped dead in my tracks, and turned slowly to face her.  I leaned in close and said quietly, “I like yours, too.  I want to pop them out and keep them in a jar.”  And I kept staring at her.  Her smile faded slowly, and a really worried look took over her face.  She turned away and refused to look at me anymore.  When a friend touched her shoulder, she actually twitched.

“Life’s no fun without a good scare.” – Danny Elfman, “This Is Halloween”

Do I look like a pirate?  Does my scare zone look like Red Beard’s Revenge?  Because last night, I suddenly had tons of people calling me a pirate and doing really lame Captain Jack Sparrow accents for me.

Wha… ?

Wednesday and Thursday started out pretty slow, and then built to a respectable crowd later on in the evening.  Even though it was not busy and I tried to take it easy, Wednesday really did a number on my muscles and joints.

It’s great having the two days off from scaring, but my body completely shuts down during that time.  I spend my time on Monday and Tuesday catching up on Netflix and TiVo stuff, vegged out in front of my TV, so my muscles are lulled into a false sense of security, assuming they won’t have to over-exert themselves for a long time.  And then I hit them hard again on Wednesday (and Thursday and Friday and…) and they complain, loud and long, about it.

I also forgot to take my Alleve meds on Wednesday, so I had extra-special-ultra pain by the end of the night.  Oh, my poor 43-year-old knees (I try not to play the “Age Card” too often ‘cuz I know there are folks just as old as I am out there who are, not only scaring, but sliding their middle-aged butts off.  But still: ouch).

I bought a new mining pan and started using it this week.  Most of the time, the pan contains a dead lizard and helps me get some hilarious scares (I even scared one of my own fellow SBMTers with it, hehehe.  Hi, Fritter!).  Frankly, I was surprised that such a simple (and kinda obvious) scare tactic was so successful, but I guess we should never underestimate the scare-ability of distracted guests.  I don’t know if it’ll work as well on the busy nights, but we’ll see.

One final thing happened on Wednesday that felt good: I got my very first Haunt jersey.  Only available to street monsters, I proudly wore my SBMT jersey at the end of the night as I walked out of the park.  “Uncle Mike 73” it says on the back, in honor of my very first year experiencing Haunt.  35 years is a long time to wait for something, and that jersey fits me like a glove.  For a variety of reasons.

Tonight is TPA Night at Haunt — YAY!  I can’t wait to see everybody and give out lots of sweaty, stinky monster hugs!

“If I cannot terrify, I will try to horrify; and if I cannot horrify, I will go for the gross-out.  I’m not proud.” – Stephen King

This past weekend was pretty busy (Saturday was completely sold-out), and, even with the huge crowds, the guests were, for the most part, well-behaved and very enthusiastic about getting scared.

But I’m getting kinda sick and tired of being poked by those damn light sabers.

I’m a big fan of the “creep-out” type of scare, and I’ve become very good at staring guests down, standing perfectly still with my head cocked at a slight angle and my eyes wide open (I’ve gotten pretty adept at not blinking, too), freaking guests out without even moving a muscle.

If they’re not creeped out by that, I s-l-o-o-o-o-w-l-y start to walk towards them.  Step by step, inch by inch (Niagara Falls!) I move closer… closer.  Sometimes, the guests scream and take off running right then and there, with me still 20 feet away.

Occasionally, I chase after them (never thought this fat old man could run so fast, frankly) and sometimes I just wave goodbye to them.

Sometimes, though, I’m able to get very close to the guests before they freak out and hide behind the largest member of their party (or hide behind a steel coaster support pole).  Then I get to play “peek-a-boo” with them as they cower and try to shield their eyes from me while I keep going around and around them, snorting, laughing, screaming - anything to get a reaction from them.

Or I just go straight for the lizard scare.  Shameless; that’s me!

As I left the park on Sunday night, I walked by the backside of Big Foot Rapids.  Usually, by this time of night, the ride has been shut down and the water is still and quiet.  Instead, the rapids were white-water-ing and the rafts were bouncing along, filled with screaming customers.

Yes, 1:00 A.M. at Haunt and guests were still riding the rapids and getting soaked.  As I shook my head, chuckling, and walked out to the parking lot, I suddenly realized I was now  halfway through my first Haunt monster experience (okay, actually I was exactly halfway at about 9:00 P.M., but still).  Only 13 more nights of Haunt.

A slight feeling of melancholy came over me as I drove home.

“…his voice was drowned in peals of laughter — such laughter as is heard in asylums for the insane…  They danced about with gestures grotesque and attitudes obscene and indescribable.” – Ambrose Bierce, “A Fruitless Assignment”

It was super-busy this past weekend, pretty darn near sold-out for both Friday and Saturday.  And with the jumped-up crowds comes the spike in strange remarks/questions/comments from the guests.

I went to scare a mother and her kid when she panicked and blurted out, “Don’t scare him!  He’s only 10 years-old!”  It actually stopped me in my tracks since I’d never heard that particular rationale yet.  I reacted with the first thing that popped into my head: a giggly, insane laugh that just kept going and going.

They were really unnerved by this and I was excited to find yet another scare tactic.

Some wanna-be comedian says to me, “Hey, you got something on your face,” and I stop in my tracks, stare at him, and giggle.  And giggle.  And giggle.

About 20 feet away from the huge signs that say “ENTRANCE” and “SILVER BULLET” a guest asks me where the entrance to the Silver Bullet coaster is.  I stop in my tracks, stare at her, and giggle.  And giggle.  And giggle.

A guest asks me, “Where’s the next maze?”

Another asks me, “How much do you get paid?”

A third calls me a “pirate.”

Oh, how I giggle.  It’s fun to see how quickly their smiles fade.

In other scaring news, I got four more adults crying and three guests flat on their butts, and countless track-and-field stars running the length of our little mining town.

As I’ve mentioned before, we monsters receive a lot of physical contact: pokes, shoves, gropes, squeezes, pinches.  Saturday night, I hit my limit and my camel’s back broke under the flimsiest of straws.

I was in the middle of a scare when somebody tapped me on the shoulder.  I ignored it, thinking that they’d go away after seeing that I was kind of busy.  A few seconds later, something hard poked me in the face, three times.  I thought it was one of those stupid light sabers, and my hand reflexively went up to knock it away.

Well, it was actually a guest’s finger that had poked me in the face (near my eye, he said, defensively), and she was pissed that I had touched her.

I said, very clearly and a little forcefully, “Stop touching the employees!”

Her response?  “Nobody told me I couldn’t.  There weren’t any signs.”

At the same time as all this was going on, her companion tries to ask me, “Hey, dude, when does The Hanging start?”

O.  M.  G. 

I had to get away before I lost any more brain cells.  I said, “Stop touching, or get kicked out.“  As I stomped away, she said, “Whatever, loser…”

I made it to the break area without killing anyone.  I sat down, hung my head in my hands, and willed my breathing to slow and my heart rate to drop.  Bubba and Fritter noticed me and offered some nice words of encouragement.  Thanks, guys.  Nice to have family around in times of need.

I know, I know, I shouldn’t let it get to me.  Most of the time, it doesn’t.  I guess we all have our breaking point, and I reached mine 18 days in. 

A few moments later, I was back out on the streets and feeling fine.  The rest of the night was without incident, thank the Haunt gods.

“Hot air hangs like a dead man from a white oak tree.” – The Blasters, “Dark Night”

Last Sunday was my birthday, and, in honor of the occasion, Southern California decided to set fire to itself.

At our weekly SBMT lunch, a few of my Haunt buddies surprised me by secretly telling the wait staff of my birthday (and Big John nearly convinced them that my name was “Wylo”).  Later, at Warehouse P, I got a nice card and addictive cookies from them.  It was a great, thoughtful moment - thanks again, family!

Smoke and ash were just beginning to creep in on Sunday night, so it didn’t affect my scares much.  The contact lenses seemed to irritate my eyes a bit more by the end of the night, but that wasn’t a big deal.

By Wednesday, though, the sky was a perpetual smoky orange and the thick smell of burnt wood hung everywhere in the 95-degree heat.  For the past two days, I had been watching video of people being evacuated and just last night from my parents’ balcony, I watched the flames burn away in a neighboring city.

It kind of felt weird that, with all this real-life horror, I’d soon be dressing up as a dead miner and trying to scare people — but, I figured that people need to escape their reality one way or another and have a fun, safe time, so I got my Haunt box ready.

At the Farm, even though very little sunlight broke through the atmosphere, it was oppressively hot, and everywhere I went, I smelled smoke.  Out on the streets, a nearly-full moon was hazy and orange, hanging low in the sky.

The night was uneventful for the most part (although my left contact was bugging me almost immediately and it was hotter than usual in my costume).  It took the guests an hour or so to start getting into the Haunt mood and, once they did, the night was good.

IN OTHER NEWS: Only seven nights of Haunt left.  That feels weird.  I can’t believe how quickly the previous 20 have flown by.  A few monsters have asked me if I’m happy to be almost done, or if I’m coming back next year.  I guess my body is happy to nearly be done (especially my ankles and knees and feet), but my mind is always ready to keep on scaring people for many more evenings.

“I wish that the children could see/But I can’t find them for the life of me/And there’s Halloween spooks outside my window.” – Lambert, Henricks, and Ross, “Halloween Spooks”

As our 8-day “Hell Week” commences, I’d like to take this opportunity to clear out some of the cobwebs in my mind.  This is a rambling post, a collection of short notes that might make up one full entry by the time I’m done. 

Please keep your hand and arms inside the vehicle at all times.  Permanecer sentados, por favor.

~

My favorite scare so far has been when I was creeping up on a couple sitting at the picnic tables in our area.  When the woman caught sight of me, she screamed and literally started climbing on top of the table, and then on top of her companion to get away from me.  Freak noticed the commotion and brought his ‘saw over.  When he revved it up, she screamed louder and kept climbing like her man was the friggin’ Matterhorn.  It looked like the woman was going to claw his head off to get away from us.

~

My mask has evolved.  Originally, it was a full over-the-head affair, and I was barely able to squeeze my huge melon in to it.  The first adjustment I made was to slit it up the back, punching a hole in the top of the slit to help prevent it ripping more.  First time I tried it on that day, it ripped anyway. 

Did I mention I have a huge head?

I cut it a bit more, and that seemed to work okay.  I also sewed a bandanna to the bottom edge in order to help camouflage and blend it into my own costume.  Velcro helped close the back.

Well, the Velcro didn’t work as well as I anticipated, and with it always coming open in the back, the ripping continued.  I decided to get rid of the entire back of my mask and use elastic to keep it on my head. 

And now it fits great, and keeps my head a bit cooler, too.

~

I find the whole idea of masks fascinating.  It still surprises me that people get freaked out by a guy wearing rubber on his face — I mean, I’m happy they do, but still, it surprises me.  I was reading up on it and some science guys think it’s related to why we cry (or scream) at certain movies or books. 

Or Hallmark commercials.  Shut up.

Anyway, they theorize that our brains haven’t evolved much in the past 10,000 years and that the Stone-Aged-lizard part of our brain can’t really tell the difference between reality and fiction.  So, when a “zombie” with a “ripped face” startles us with an “axe,” our brain sees it as a ZOMBIE!  With a RIPPED FACE!  And he’s got an AXE!

AAAAAAUGH!!!

Of course, your boyfriend shoving you towards the zombie doesn’t help.

~

I think I’m gritting my teeth - or at least, clenching my jaw — as I scare.

As Fritter and I walked around last night, she mentioned that her teeth hurt.  I had noticed the same thing after the first couple of nights, and also last night, my molars were aching. 

A few monsters had warned me of this (and some even use mouth guards).  Just another in a growing list of surprising things that come up night after night at Haunt.

~

Rick and Shea were at Haunt last night and will be there tonight as well, taking their final set of TPA pictures and videos.  I always get such a kick out of seeing my friends at Haunt (Hi Trubble!  Hi PsychoMommy!).  It’s so great, in the middle of a hot, sweaty, exhausting night, to be snapped back to reality by a nice hug and a few sweet words.

~

Only six more nights.  And my parents are coming to Haunt on Monday, returning for the first time in 35 years. 

Can.  Not.  Wait.

“Scary monsters and super creeps/Keep me running, running scared.” – David Bowie, “Scary Monsters”

I am not a prude.  In my “normal” life, I am extremely liberal, sarcastically mouthy, and occasionally vulgar.

But, jeez-o-flip, I have never heard more swearing, cursing, and inappropriate language than I have during the past 24 days scaring guests at Haunt.

And, remember - I also teach junior high.  

Maybe it’s the sheer number of people attending the event that makes it seem like the swearing is out of control, but, even after watching people get scared for the past 35 years, I wasn’t prepared for the number of times the f-word, the m-f-word, the c-s-word, and even the n-word has exploded out of mouths both young and old.

And the language isn’t even the most inappropriate stuff.

Nothing feels stranger or, well, creepier than when a 13-year-old (of either gender) asks me, a complete stranger in a rubber mask and stinky-sweaty clothing, for a hug.  Or flirtatiously calls me sexy.

Sometimes I’ll adopt a “Valley Girl” voice and say loudly, “Ew!” and walk/run away, quickly diffusing the situation with laughter.  Other times, I just pretend I didn’t hear and keep walking.  Either way, you’ll notice a pattern here: Uncle Mike avoids confrontation.

Another group I studiously avoid: drunk people.

On a purely economical level, selling beer at Haunt makes damn good sense.  If people are willing to pay $9.00 or whatever for a small cup of beer, any company that wouldn’t take advantage of that just ain’t paying attention. 

But some of the hardest guests to scare are guests who’ve been drinking.  Their reaction times are slowed w-a-a-a-y down, yet their confidence level has been boosted w-a-a-a-y up.  They ain’t afraid of nothin’, even if they can’t quite focus on what they ain’t afraid of.  So, just a wee bit difficult to startle them.  Luckily, we don’t see very many of those; just enough to remind me: oh yeah, they sell beer here.

This past weekend was the biggest weekend of the run: sold-out and packed wall-to-wall.  We were getting some great scares in our little mining town, and energy was high.  I watched one girl leap over a picnic table (!!!) to get away from my lizard, and I scared two kids who then sprinted in opposite directions (but toward each other) and their heads connected with a hollow-coconut “BONK.”  I laughed so hard behind my mask that I had tears in my eyes (and, yes, the guests were fine afterward).

We got pulled from the streets early Saturday night.  Rumors ran around as to why, but I have yet to hear the definitive reason.  When the call went out, all of us in SBMT gathered together, passed along the message, and then made sure we all got backstage safely. 

I don’t know if it’s the physical layout of our area, or the monsters in it (probably a combo of the two), but we hardly ever have any kinds of negative incidents in SBMT.  Saturday night was, to me, another high-energy night, full of people laughing and screaming and running away.  Crowded, sure, but still fun, so it came as a surprise when we were pulled.  Frankly, I was a little disappointed — I wanted the scares to go on and on (even though my knee was acting up).

I gotta say, I am having the time of my life here.  Being a monster at Haunt is as natural to me as sleeping and eating.  I didn’t know if I’d feel the same about my experience near the end of the run as I did before I even started, and, well, truth be told, I actually don’t feel the same: I love it even more than I thought I would.

It’s always kind of a pleasant surprise when Friday rolls around and Knott’s presents me with a paycheck for all of my hard work the previous week.  I get to run around scaring the crap outta people with some of my best friends, AND I get paid for it?  Really?!?

Heck, I think I’d do that for free.

“No time to waste, the hours fade/They come awake, the dead parade.” – Barnes & Barnes, “Cemetery Girls”

My parents showed up on Monday the 29^th for their first Haunt visit since 1973, along with my aunt, cousin and a friend.  They all had a great time.  It wasn’t very busy, so they were able to go through all the mazes by midnight and then say their goodbyes and get a big sweaty monster hug from their son.

I think Dad would make a great Haunt monster, since he spent most of the evening sneaking up on my mom and scaring the hell out of her.  Mom told me later that her hands hurt the next morning because she was clutching my aunt’s arm tightly all night.

The countdown to Halloween night was fairly uneventful — the crowds got a little smaller day-by-day and I got more tired and less energetic the later the hour.  It was obvious that the event was winding down and that our busiest nights were now behind us.  I had been there every night for the past five weeks, and it was all catching up with me.  By midnight of those last few Haunt nights, I was seriously draggin’ butt.

On one of those nights, Fritter and I scared this young guest who took off running — but dropped his sports bottle.  He stopped and turned around in time to see me pick it up and hold it out for him.  He shook his head when I motioned for him to come and get it.  Fritter and I both stood there for a minute or two, crooking our fingers at him, trying to get him to come closer.

He would not.

Fritter took the water bottle and put it on the ground about midway between he and us.  We put our hands out innocently, like, “Come and get it.”  He shook his head at first, then cautiously took a step toward it.

I took a quick step forward and he backed up, grinning.  It went on like that, a good-natured back-and-forth between predator and prey, until the lad’s (I presume) mom stepped in, quite angry, and shouted, “Leave my boy alone!”

Sigh.

Fritter and I both walked away without another word.  Whatever. 

Tomorrow night is Halloween night.  My first year as a Haunt monster is almost at an end.  I let my mind drift back and the past 26 event nights are a big blur.  I try to remember individual nights, individual scares, and I just can’t.  It all runs together into one deliciously scary Haunt sundae. 

And tomorrow night is the cherry on top.

HALLOWEEN

“We’ll put him in a blender/See how he does/Until he can’t remember/The boy that he was/This is Halloween.”  - 3, “Halloween”

It’s here.  The last night of Haunt.  All Hallow’s Eve.

Am I sad?  Yes.  Am I relieved?  Yeah.  Am I tired?  Yep. 

Will I miss it?  With every fiber of my being.

The routine walk from the parking lot through the employee entrance and then to Warehouse P didn’t seem too different this night.  I reminded myself that this was the last trip I’d be taking this year, but it was hard to keep that in mind.  It was simply another night of Haunt.

I shared the candy I brought with the rest of my fellow monsters and started getting dressed for the last time this season.  Some folks came up to me with a pat on the back and an encouraging, “This is it!”  It felt surreal to know that these wonderful people, with whom I’d spent the last five weeks sharing scares, laughs, bruises, and, yes, a wee bit o’ drama, would soon be out of my day-to-day life.

I tried not to think about it as I put my contacts in and my eye black on.  Our Talent Captain gave us a final pep talk that was half “Thank you” and half “Give ‘em hell!”  He’s a great supervisor and I hope we get him back next year.

We got the “all-clear” signal and the Silver Bullet Mining Town headed out, ready to give a great scare to our very last guests of the season.

It turned out to be a pretty mellow night; very light numbers.  I had the feeling that would be the case, so for Halloween night only, I brought a creepy spider-web lantern I customized with a battery-operated “candle” in it that flickered and looked pretty cool.  I carried it in one hand and was still able to scare people.  I liked the way I looked bringing it up slowly, trying to “illuminate” the guests just before I scared ‘em!  Hehehe... 

I kept a loose countdown in my mind as I went on my breaks: “Only five hours left… only three hours left… only one more hour…”

…and then, suddenly, there were just a few minutes left.  Surprised, stunned, I made my way to the SBMT entrance where the rest of our family was gathering.  I was quiet as we all headed out, walking back to the infamous Warehouse P to get signed out for the night.  And the year.

Backstage, I shook hands with our Talent Captain, got my wardrobe slip and my walking papers, hung up my vest, and…

…that’s it?  I’m done?  Really?

No fireworks?  No confetti?  Hmph!

It was kind of anti-climactic.  I changed into my civilian duds, retrieved my employee shirt, hat, and other incentives, and sat on my Haunt box for a moment.  I looked around at all the other monsters hugging, shaking hands, buying Haunt merchandise, and generally just hanging out with their friends.  I really wanted to burn these images into my brain and remember this moment forever.

But I also had a plane to catch.  (SFX: needle screeching across record)

So I quickly packed up my Haunt box and walked out for the last time.

Five days later, I realized that I had not packed up my long duster coat and I, indeed, had left it behind at Knott’s.

Sheesh.

“I wanted a perfect ending.  Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end.” – Gilda Radner

One thing I noticed during my time as a Haunt monster was that my normal, day-to-day activities started getting pushed off to one side in order for me to fully commit to Haunt.  Bills would get laid aside to be dealt with later, laundry piled up, dishes remained dirty; all because I was just too tired to deal with it.

I think I’m going to have to be much more diligent next year.

Haunt officially ended 10 days ago, and tonight the After Haunt Awards Banquet is being held.  Haunt never really ends, for all intents and purposes: we monsters tend to drag these things out with parties, get-togethers, etc., so that one year kind of melts into the next.  But AHAB is usually considered to be the last event of the Haunt season.

And in just a few hours, I’ll be there.

I was at Knott’s a couple days ago, picking up my coat that I had left behind (the last rookie mistake I get to make).  It was kind of sad to realize that I wasn’t an employee anymore, and that I had to wait for someone from Wardrobe to come and meet me at the employment center.

But even the few minutes I spent at the Farm seemed like coming home again.  *sigh*

I’m excited about AHAB tonight, and also about the Silver Bullet party happening separately.  I have missed my Haunt family these past 10 days like I never thought I would.  I miss seeing these people every night, scaring with them, laughing with them.  This is an amazing group of folk that do Haunt, and I’m incredibly proud and lucky to be one of them.

Gotta go get ready.  I’ll be back with some final thoughts after this message...

(the next morning…)

AHAB was amazing.  I’m so happy I went, and happier still (if that’s possible) that I was able to drive over to the SBMT shindig, too.

Bizarre and PsychoMommy were already in line when I showed up, so, after hugs, they let me wait with them.  It was interesting to see what people decided to wear and with whom they came.  Children, girlfriends, boyfriends, husbands, wives, significant and not-so-significant others were all in attendance.  Some monsters dressed very casually in t-shirts and jeans, and some totally went the other way and got all gussied-up in fancy suits and beautiful dresses for the affair. 

We monsters scrub up surprisingly well when the situation calls for it.

The sheer variety of people who turn into monsters during October is interesting as well.  We’ve got fathers and mothers with demanding day jobs, young kids barely out of high school who made Haunt their very first job ever, along with every kind of person in between.  Skinny, fat, tall, short, young, old; we all come together for one thing: to scare.

As we were all seated, a slideshow played on the big screens at the front of the room, showing all of us monsters in all our gloriously scary incarnations.  Killer clowns and marionette murderers, mythological creatures and ghostly gunslingers, the undead and the freshly dead, all were flashed onscreen and they all brought a big smile to my face.

I love this event, and I love the people that make it happen.  It is really a dream come true.

After a short time filled with picture-taking and hugging and friendly mocking and a few… ahem… beverages, a really delicious dinner started being served, so we all settled down (as much as over 300 monsters can settle down) to eat.

After dinner, each maze and zone had awards to give out to their top monsters, with accompanying certificates and plaques.  I won for “Most Dedicated” in our area, which was a really nice surprise, but my certificate was with my fellow townspeople at the SBMT party, so I got to sit down almost immediately after my name was called.  In-between all these awards, different videos and photo slideshows were played for everyone.

One of these videos was TPA’s “Screamy Awards."

Oh, I hope y’all get a chance to watch this sometime soon.  The opening was incredible, and had some hilarious (naturally) footage of our own Dusty Geezer, where he —

Nope, I’m not going to tell you.  Nyah nyah nyah!

Obviously, not everybody’s going to agree with the top Screamy picks all the time (I certainly didn’t), but nobody can doubt the love and affection for Haunt that comes screaming (hehehe) off of that screen.  It was definitely the high point of the evening.

The last awards were eventually given out, the dance music revved up, and I quickly said my goodbyes in order to make it over to SBMT before their party ended.  Social butterfly, c’est moi.

The SBMT party was in full-swing by the time I arrived, with their own awards ceremony winding down and The Rocketz getting ready to play some blistering tunes.  As a fun counterpoint to AHAB, this was a much more casual affair, like a neighborhood barbecue in the backyard with a bunch of close friends.

A couple hours later, after many more hugs and shared stories and promises to get together again soon, I was getting really tired, so I started making my goodbye rounds.

I found it ironic that, during Haunt, I was wide-awake at 2:00 A.M., but as soon as Haunt was over, I started getting sleepy around 10:00 P.M. again.

Like a normal person.

As I drove back home from the evening’s festivities, all I could think was: “I miss them.”  I miss seeing these people on a daily basis, I miss hanging out with them, and I miss prowling our dark streets with them.  I just miss their company.

And here I sit, the morning after, typing these words.  Haunt is truly over, and shan’t be back for another 10 months, 19 days, and 9 hours, near as I can figger.  Oh sure, we’ll get together and see each other for birthday parties and holidays and re-hire and orientation… but it won’t be the same.

It won’t be Haunt.

So, until the fog creeps out and the coffin doors creak open and the wind howls and the veil lifts from the Farm once again, we’ll all just have to agree to be patient. 

Can you?  I think I can.

Heck, it’s already been 35 years for me.  What’s one more?

♥,

-- Uncle Mike

(A humungous “Thank you!” to the Haunt fans and monsters who read and enjoyed my scribblings, and an even bigger one to Haunt geek/webmaster/great friend Rick West who offered me this unique forum to share my experiences — I hope y’all enjoyed it as much as I!)

ENDGAME

It seems just like yesterday that Mike and I were kicking the title for this project back and forth.  Where the time went, I honestly can't tell you.  All I know is that one minute, we were prepping for this - and now, Haunt 2007 is a memory and the Christmas lights are being hung throughout the neighborhood (and Farm).  Halloween is a sweet memory now - and what a fantastic imprint - a time capsule of sorts - that we have in this journal from Uncle Mike.  Time will forever stand frozen here on this page as reader after reader reads and relives Mike's experience as a life-long fan-turned-monster.  There will never be another feature like this as part of our Haunt coverage.  There's no way, because there is only one Uncle Mike.  This tale is unique and amazing.  To be a part of it and stand at ground zero, bringing this to life for the rest of you - what an amazing thing.  Beautiful, really.

I'll never forget saying, "Okay - so what about From Major Fan to Miner Monster?" and having Mike on the phone saying, "That is awesome!"  And I will never forget those phone chats while Mike was prepping his mask for the very first time - or the afternoon that he got his contacts.  And truly, one of the highlights of my 13 years covering Halloween Haunt - being there on Opening Night, following Mike as he made his way through Warehouse P and then crossed the Veil for the first time ever as his monstrous counterpart.  Words cannot describe the excitement, pride and just all-around positive energy that moment created.  It made my heart happy - and gave me the biggest damned lump in my throat at the same time!

Mike did everyone proud.  He did it up and he proved himself a valued member of the Haunt family.

Seeing Mike at AHAB was a wonderful thing, too; for the last several years, I have told him of the fabled event and have gone to his place for pizza and "movie night" to show him the Screamy Awards, etc.  Now, it was finally time for him to experience AHAB for himself - and to see our presentations as they were meant to be seen - on the big screens with hundreds of screaming monsters cheering on their friends.  He sat across the room from me (at a table of some of the coolest of the cool, I might add, including "That Girl" from The Doll Factory, along with our very own Bizarre and his PsychoMommy), but I kept an eye on him.  At one point in the evening, after the Screamy Awards, I spoke for several minutes and had the opportunity to have Mike stand up and be recognized by his peers.  It was a brief but very sweet moment for me.  My affection and admiration for Mike are genuine.

It has been my honor to present his journey to all of you.  And many people indeed joined in - with as many people reading this page as the Whispers in the Fog feature.  It was our biggest October ever on TPA, with over 42,000 visitors to the site.  Most of them stopped by to check in on Uncle Mike's tale.  What an awesome opportunity it's been for me to share this fan's ultimate journey with the world, literally.

The book now closes on this feature - but the legacy and tale of Uncle Mike have just hit their stride; we look forward to many more years of Mike spooking it up at the Scary Farm - or simply remaining one of Haunt's first and most dedicated fans.

I remain forever, a major fan of this very special miner monster.

Rick West - November 25, 2007 - 10:19 P.M.

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