Corn mazes: surprisingly scary

Media Credit: Dave Martinez [Click to enlarge]

Media Credit: Dave Martinez [Click to enlarge]

Two years ago, I experienced my first corn maze and am still scarred from fright. A group of us headed out around 9 p.m. to the lone maze planted on the side of Highway 99. Country folk escorted us to the entrance after taking our money, nearly shoving us into the spiral of terror.

Within seconds, we were tiptoeing through the mud walkways, straining our eyes to find landmarks and check behind our shoulders. OK, nothing is happening, I thought to myself, proclaiming how the most gruesome of horror films don't even affect me.

Suddenly, a machine sound roared a few corn rows away and the college-aged men I was with began sprinting, grabbing our hands and yelling "GO!"

Holy shit, I muttered to myself before dashing off. This is serious. The sound stopped. Only our heavy breathing and dilated eyes prevailed over the silence. "He's gone, he's gone," I reassured my friend, banding together.

How naive we were. The sound, now clearly a chainsaw, was revving louder and louder, clearly coming our way. We ran and ran but now he was coming from the other direction. Donning a ski mask and black clothing, the pseudo chainsaw murderer rushed onward. In the group's flurry to escape, I turned a tad too quickly, falling to my knees.

My friends scurried away as I lay alone, splattered mud from the frenzy freckling my face and staining my light denim trousers. "Wait!" I shouted to no avail. Meanwhile, the stranger with the chainsaw spotted his prey, squirming helplessly in the wet dirt.

As he walked toward me, pounding his black leather boots in the mud, I also peed my pants. Seconds later he stood before me, his threatening machine inches from my Chuck Taylors. But he didn't come any closer and I remembered that this was all in good fun. He wasn't a vicious predator trying to kill me, he was employed by the farm to scare people.

As I trotted off to find my pack, who still screamed with terror, I regained a sense of control and charged forward, ready to conquer the maze.

Finding our way only became easier and by the end of the hour-long event I was ready for next year. Now, I await the night when I will possibly pee my pants over a person chasing me with a chainsaw. Is that weird?

lfunston@dailyemerald.com

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