Haunting for One

"How many?"

"Um, well, we've got three," the man in front of me in line said, pointing down at his seven year old son and four year old daughter, "But..."

And then he looked back at me and pointed.

"No, no, no thank you," I said.

We were at the Backwoods Maze in Burbank, and although I was scared to go into a frightful Halloween attraction (in the dark, no less) by myself, I said, "I came alone, and I'm going in alone."

The father in front of me started to go in, and then turned back as if to check and see if I'd changed my mind. I put my hand up in a "I'm fine" gesture, and as they went in, I advanced to the man at the entrance.

"Just one?"

"I came stag." Somehow I thought it was less mortifying to go into a haunted maze alone than to tag along with a young family I'd just met.

"Oh, so you're a brave one..."

"Not really."

And then it was my turn.

The first masked ghoul I encountered also remarked, "We have a braaaaave one..." but when I screamed about five seconds later, he said, "Oh, so maybe not so brave after allllll...."

No, not so brave after all.

But maybe braver than most. Everyone else had someone to clutch onto. All I could do was wave my hands in front of me as though fanning myself on a hot day, or trying to airdry wet nails. And giggle. And scream. And try to make idle conversation with those who haunted me.

Now if only I could find a way to cope with the hauntings that wake me up in the middle of the night, when I'm also alone...

Related Post:
A Tale of Two Tickets

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