I love Fall! I know it’s not technically here yet but the mornings definitely prove it’s on its way! I’ve been crazy-busy lately and nothing too provoking has come to mind for me to write about… but this morning an e-newsletter popped into my inbox from Ashland Berry Farm.
So, because apparently I’m supposed to tell it, here’s another embarrassing story of my life…
I was the awesome age of 18 and had a relatively new boyfriend who in my mind, was maybe a little too cool for me at the time. It was a beautiful fall afternoon and we decided to rally a group to go to the Haunted Forest at Ashland Berry Farm. Hard as I tried, all of my girlfriends used my signature line of “oh hayl no” and so I ended up with the boys for the night – which has always been fine with me.
This was my first haunted forest experience. If you’ve never been – every Fall Ashland Berry Farm builds different themed rooms in the middle of the woods; tight maze-like rooms that you have to squeeze into, one person behind the other, holding on to each other’s waists and shuffling along. There were three different buildings to get through and thankfully BF wanted to go first which made me second. The other four boys (the shortest being maybe 5’11- just for imagery sake) latched on behind me and we entered the first building.
I was terrified – I do not do scary things well. I buried my face in BF’s back, and fought back terror-induced-dizziness as we worked through the maze in which zombies and, I don’t know, freaky people, scream at you and throw chains around. I remember seeing the light at the end of the tunnel and hearing the guys start laughing again (though their laughs did sound a little forced…)
As we stepped outside into the cold and relaxed a little, something terrible happened. As soon as the relief came, a chainsaw started up in the darkness and quickly started working it’s way closer to us. I felt BF jump and pull away from me… cool as I thought he was (and you are, if you ever happen to find this story. I’m sorry for portraying you as a wimp… wimp! Haha.) I knew he was about to run… and run he did, like a bat out of hell. I reached for his hand, his jacket, his hood, scrambling to grab onto anything that might result in me being taken with him instead of left paralyzed with the chainsaw dude, but he was fast as a baseball-playin’-bitch (pardon my language) and my desperate reaches sent me face-planting into the ground instead.
I was second in our line of six. Which meant that as I looked up and and caught a glimpse of the tiny speck that was the boy who called himself my boyfriend at the time, disappearing into the woods, the other four boys crashed down on top me; a five-person pile up. I could still hear the chainsaw and even though I was literally eating mud at the bottom of the stack, it was a comfort to know that they’d get chopped up before me (sorry!). But… boys in high school are athletic… and selfish, and as fast as they were down, they were up and running again- four more tiny zig-zagging specks disappearing into the darkness without any concern for the girl they had left to die.
I was covered in mud. Broken. And alone. With the scary chainsaw guy. I managed to roll over onto my back to get one last glimpse of the stars and beg God to take me, as he stepped over my body (like dude, inappropriate…) He raised the chainsaw above his head and paused there before going in for the kill (seriously though, do those guys get background checks?!) when it happened.
I’ve heard of people “peeing a little” when they laugh too hard or get startled; mostly old folks or little kids. I was 18. But to my credit, I was about to die. I didn’t pee a little though. I peed a lot. Like a lot, a lot. Like. To my knees. And through my sobbing, I screamed at the top of my lungs, “OKAY! I PEEEEED!” He dropped the chainsaw, laughed, and raised his mask to wink at me before disappearing back into the woods…
Only one boy had returned to save me and witnessed the happenings of that night. To this day, he is still one of my very best friends. His face was stone-cold-serious when he picked me up off the ground and attempted to hug me so that I’d calm down. I doubled-over laughing and waved him off so he didn’t touch me. I literally could not stop hyperventilating-style-laughing trying to communicate to him that someone needed to take me home. Slowly the other boys started to reappear and after a good three minutes of their blank stares, I managed to get out a “I peed, I peed!”
The thing about boys that I, to this day, love: These sweet boys (now all wonderful men) didn’t laugh at me until I said it was okay to laugh- they might have laughed a little too hard and a little too long after that but to their credit, they did wait for approval. Another thing I love about boys; no one else except my family knew that story until I finally decided to tell it four years later as a senior in college (during a night class and after happy hour).
And now I tell it for everyone. And here. Haha, because now that I’m 26, much worse, more embarrassing things have happened to me. Stay tuned…