Yesterday I went to yet another inept attempt to capitalize on Halloween spirit by promising to scare you in a dilapidated environment with latex-masked kids (i.e. the haunted house). This time it was in the form of the old and infamous East State Penitiary. In case you don't know (which you probably don't), it's a rather infamous prison in Philly that's been abandoned for some time. It's now considered a historical landmark and although it's quite weather worn, tours are conducted regularly.
You'd think that a prison on the verge of structural collapse would be a great place for that kind of thing. Sure, the overall atmoshpere was cool, but operating in a fragile, national treasure was restrictive, and it basically sucked. Sadly, it just wasn't scary. They took a more Rocky Horror approach, mixing in a bit of weak-assed humor with the revelry.
Although it was the least fun of all of the haunted-house-ish places I've been to, they all seem to fall to the same problems. The biggest, and most easily rectified, is their tendency to bombard you with strobe lights, darkness, and loud noise. Sure, it's disorienting, but if I'm concentrating on trying not to fall down, I'm not going to pay much heed to the guy in the cheap mask jumping out at me. The other problem was the fact that we were in a group of 30. It's hard to get freaked if the odds of survival are that good.
If I was running one of those things, I would totally freak people out. First, I'd have the place well lit enough so people can see. Dim, to be sure, but bright enough so that they don't fall down. I'd keep it quiet, too, so they can hear the blood rushing through their ears. I thought up a few specific scares, too.
The first horror they'll face is an elderly woman in a floral print dress and saliva dripping from her mouth. She'll pinch their cheeks and say, "Give aunt Guertrude a kiss."
As they're fleeing from that, they'll run right into a man in a lab coat who will say with a broad smile, "Congratualtions. You're going to be parents!"
Surely some would have fallen into crumpled heaps of tears by now. Those that survive will be hit with a middle-aged woman in horn-rim glasses screaming, "Where is that homework assignment?"
Finally, those who are still crawling toward the exit will find their path blocked by a man in a suit. He will calmly say, "I'm agent Smith with the IRS. We've noticed a few...irregularities in your tax record."
Maybe that's TOO scary.
