The hypothermia series continues: Haunted Corn Maze

Remember that time that I willingly committed to an adventure series of unfortunate events (evidence here and here)?

Yeah, me too. I curse that day. Except I don’t because while they have so far all involved being freezing cold, they have for the most part been fun and injury-free.

This past Saturday was the Halloween edition. It was our third attempt at visiting the Haunted Corn Maze at the Riverbreeze Farm in Truro. It was a solid hour drive out – an hour and fifteen for us since we took the wrong exit and ended up on a dirt road to certain death by cannibalism – and then a two hour wait in line to get in.

YES. TWO HOURS.

The line was easily a kilometer and a half long, five people wide. For me, the time passed surprisingly quickly as my favourite past time does happen to be making fun of people, especially stoned bumpkins who are tripping out in the middle of a giant field like it ain’t no thang.

The maze experience was actually pretty awesome and definitely worth the $13. I’m guessing based on the number of times that I soiled myself that they had a solid 40-50 people hidden throughout the maze with one purpose and one purpose only – to make you scream like a girl.

Which we all did. Especially when we had to go through a real school bus, Jeepers Creepers-style. I jumped away from the crazy bus driver, fell into a seat on top of a dummy that turned out to be a real person who then scared me down the stairs of the bus into a scary clown dude who reduced me to a heap of sobbing terror. Like this:

This lady wasn’t with us. Actually, this is an entirely different corn maze altogether but it basically sums up the night pretty nicely.

The not so great part was the end. Throughout the maze you play by mini golf etiquette – I mean leaving enough room in between groups to not ruin the scares, NOT allowing one re-do per hole and dividing your total score by two – but at the end, they bottle nose you into this strange rubber birth canal (seriously, you need to clamor through this odd tunnel that closes around you on all sides and have to push through until you pop out in a hospital room where they remove the umbilical cord chamber of shrunken heads).

This means that when you’re all revved up from being chased by a zombie lumberjack wielding a very loud chainsaw, you end up losing your buzz waiting in yet another 30 minute line.

Did I mention the line was to squeeze through a vagina?

I think that’s important to reiterate here.

The scariest moment of the whole experience? Our dwindling attitudes when we realized it was 11:30pm and we still had an hour drive ahead of us to get back home. I was promised we’d be sipping Bailey’s and hot chocolate in the hot tub by ten.

Ain’t no zombie scarier than me without the booze I’ve been promised, bitches.