One of the biggest challenges in the Haunt business is coming up with new ideas every season. Some haunts keep the same rooms and props every year because they are so popular. Our organization, however, tries to keep our house full of fresh, new things. Sure, we’ve had some favorites we might have used a couple years in a row, and there have also been a few old things we dug out of the closet and gave a fresh coat of paint to, but for the most part we try to offer something different every year.
One of our most successful concepts was the Casket Ride. We took a real casket (a nice looking black one with gold trim, I might add), ripped out the metal spring and added padding and a removable lining, propped that sucker on a long, inclined ramp with industrial rollers and viola. A ride to die for, literally.
We even had a camera mounted over the Loading Zone so that people waiting in line could watch some poor bastard lay down in the coffin, the lid get closed, and the coffin roll off camera. That alone had some folks dampening their drawers.
This year we were inspired by a get-up that occurs at a lot of amusement parks. As soon as you walk in the entrance, some employee and a goober in a big, floppy character costume approach you and your group, snap a picture and hand you a ticket with a number on it. At the end of the day, you report to a booth and, lo and behold, there’s you and your crew with the floppy-costumed critter available in 8 X 10, wallet size and keychain size.
So it if works for them, maybe it’ll work for us. But instead of a cute, furry thing, we could have, say, and evil furry thing.
We honestly had no idea if this would even work, but we will willing to give it a try. The staff got hold of a halfway decent printer and stocked up on ink cartridges and photo paper. Nicograph (who’s been helping out at the Haunted House for quite a few years now) brought her digital camera, tripod, laptop and fabric for a backdrop.
And I brought myself, some furry legs and some big-ass wings.
We just found our next big money maker. We’re averaging about a dozen a night. And that number increases every weekend.
For 5 bucks, you and your pals can get your photo made with yours truly. So, in a sense, I’ve become a twisted version of a mall Santa.
Yes, people are more than willing to plop either themselves or their kids on my lap for a photo. Imagine using one of these for your Christmas Card this year.
So I sit on my big chair all night, eyeing the crowd ominously, while Nicograph solicits potential subjects.
Who knew we could make this much money (and have fun at the same time) and still keep our clothes on?
As much as I love being my gargoyle alter ego, there were times back in my early days at Literally, a Haunted House that I needed a break. So once in a while I would throw on a tattered, hooded robe, make myself look sickly and slightly evil, and just wander behind groups as they ventured thru the House. I not only provided security, I got to see all the other actors in action. And I got to see customers freak out all night long.
Altho there are some tried-and-true classic scares (clowns, chainsaws, drop windows), sometimes just being silent can be way more intimidating and frightening.
And, as they always say when interviewing neighbors of a serial killer: “He was real quiet and kept to himself mostly.” It’s those quiet types you gotta watch out for.
One night I’m doing my stealth roving I notice this one woman in my current group being a general loud-mouth wise-ass. She’s crass, rude, disrespectful of our actors and a general pain in the ass. She’s blonde, aprobably in her late 30s (old enough to know better), and surprisingly not drunk. But she’s being a real bitch.
So that when I start staring. Right. At. Her. Unblinking. Eyes wide. And with those yellow cat-eye lenses, not to mention the sickly face, it’s pretty damn creepy. Hell, look at the photo. There is no sexy in that get-up.
Well, needless to say, she felt the eyes on her and glanced up to catch my unwavering gaze, and that cocky attitude went poof. I’ve never seen a face fall that fast.
As we went from room to room, I stayed behind the entire group, remaining in the background so as not to disrupt the action in each scene. But Blondie is not watching the actors. She keeps glancing at me.
And I’m not looking at anyone or anything but her. And I’m not blinking.
By the third room, she’s no longer enjoying herself. She grabs her male companion and, whispering loud enough for me to hear, says, “That thing’s looking at me.”
Blondie’s companion looks up at me but doesn’t seem to care. He’s having a good time watching the show so he doesn’t care that his girl is getting freaked out.
This continues from room to room. Blondie is getting more and more nervous, uttering “That thing’s still looking at me!” at least two more times.
And my face never changes. And I never say a word.
By the time we reach the end, Blondie is a complete mess. Once she makes it out the exit she relaxes and says to her group, “Did you guys see that thing looking at me?”
One of the nice things about being roving security is you get some decent exercise, since you’re on your feet walking all night. Another nice thing is that you are not limited to one room. Or even the House itself. You can go anywhere you want.
That includes chasing people out the door. Across the yard. Down the street.
Blondie had only a second or two of peace before I emerged from the exit, still staring at her, and started following her. Blondie broke out into a brisk walk up the street, constantly looking over her shoulder at me.
Don’t worry, friends and neighbors, the street she was on is a well-lit dead end with little traffic, so she wasn’t in danger of getting hit by a car. But getting run over by a vehicle was the last thing on her mind as she started to run. Meanwhile, I’m just walking at a leisurely pace behind her. And only her. By now her pals are howling with laughter as they watch their friend run away screaming from a slow moving spooky person.
Finally, I stopped in the middle of the road and slowly raised my right arm and pointed to her, never saying a word. It made for a nice visual.
Blondie made it home safe, sound and un-traumatized that night. How do I know this? She and her companion came back the very next week.
It’s always a compliment when you have repeat visitors in the Haunt business. It gives you that warm, sticky feeling to know you and your organization are so damn scarey that folks are willing to undergo the ordeal all over again.
So, yes, Blondie and her man came back the very next weekend. And guess who followed them thru the house again?
In the first room Blondie noticed my presence and nearly lost it. She held tenaciously to her man while nearly screaming, “It’s that thing again! It’s still looking at me!”
I’m going to give yall a few minutes to bask in this moment of great satisfaction that I, too, was experiencing....
Aaawwww, yeeeeaaahhh... This is gonna get good.
Once again, Blondie’s companions are having a great time. Once again, Blondie is a mess. Only this time the volume has been turned up to 11.
By the time we reach the exit, she’s become an Olympic sprinter. Her pals are still laughing as she dashes up the street again. And I, too, am slowly following her.
But this time I throw a little humor in the mix. Humiliation is the greatest thing to serve to someone who deserves it.
I stop in the middle of the street, just like before, but this time, in my best toddler voice, I shout, “Bye-bye, lady!”
Blondie screeches to a halt and turns around to make sure she really heard what I just said.
I put my hands to my cheeks, giggle like a little girl and go skipping (yes, skipping) back into the House.
I don’t know who was laughing harder; her friends or our staff.
One of the easiest ways to scare somebody is to pretend you are a prop. The more made-up and heavily costumed you are, the more effective this is.
Seriously... nobody expects something that’s 8 foot tall with wings to be real. Which makes this whole set-up so much fun.
Mastering the whole ‘prop-stance’ was simple. I would back up against the wall and stretch my arms out in a threatening manner and freeze. I would even find a small spot on the wall ahead of me to focus on without blinking. As people walked past me I remained frozen. I might even let them reach out and touch me to see if I was real. All I am waiting for is the right moment.
That moment is that fraction of a second where they assume I’m fake and relax. And that’s when I get them. Sometimes is a loud snarl and lunge, other times it’s a simple turn of the head with one hell of a stare down. Once they start running there’s 8 feet of sexy gargoyle right behind them, maintaining their speed.
Many a visitors’ crotches have been damped this way.
One night while in my frozen pose I observed my next group of victims. It was a mix of young guys and girls but one guy stood out in particular: ball cap on sideways, overly baggy pants with the waistband below the ass crack, wife beater shirt, walking with an over-confidently swagger like a rooster in a barnyard, complete with head bobbing... you already know the type.
This is the type I normally try to avoid. And I warn my actors of the same. When you see someone that looks like they might be trouble, avoid them and scare the rest of the group.
So I lunge and snarl at the rest of the group. But guess who screams like a little girl and nearly drops to his knees?
Baggy Pants is not as tough as his homeboy exterior portrays him.
Yes, Baggy Pants let out a wail that rivaled your average 8-year-old. Upon regaining his balance he dashed down a short hallway and stopped, cowered in the corner.
And, just like the slogan for McDonald’s, I’m lovin’ it. Looks like we have someone who needs ‘special attention.’
I lumber down the hall and loom over him, growling and breathing heavy the whole time. He’s still trembling in the corner with his arms thrown protectively over his head.
After enjoying this spectacle for a few seconds I decide to add the icing on the cake. I thrust out my right hand and, in a low, beast-like voice I say, “Shake my hand!”
Baggy Pants looks at me and shakes his head ever so slightly.
I keep my hand out and shout again, “Shake my hand!!”
Baggy Pants, still looking very rattled, shakes his head again.
Now, in my normal everyday voice I say, “I’m a GIRL! Shake my hand!”
Baggy Pants has a moment of clarity and, still looking frightened, gingerly holds out his hand. I grab it, give a few strong shakes and turn around and walk away.
Now while all of this has been happening, his buddies have been just a few feet away watching all this go down. My satisfaction comes from knowing that, once they all got outside, his buddies probably gave him grief for the rest of the night:
I’ve never been a fan of beautiful, sexy Halloween costumes. Unfortunately, the majority of costumes marketed toward women are the skank, stripper-like fantasy costumes: the sexy witch, the sexy Snow White, the sexy cop...
I’m such a snob, but they lack creativity. And for a Halloween enthusiast like me, they just won’t do.
So several years ago I wanted to create something truly horrifying. My costumes in the past (I must brag here) had been pretty damn skippy: the Bride of Frankenstein (with my real hair), the Grim Reaper (complete with scythe), a can of Raid bug spray (no kidding). But this latest one had to top them all.
I have this thing for gargoyles. I have a few concrete ones in our yard, a couple miniature ones adorn my iMac at work and there are several scattered about the house as decor. So it was only natural to give myself a good gargoyle makeover.
Gargoyle version 1 consisted of a furry body suit complete with hood and pointy ears, furry feet and gloves, hand-made bat wings and a full facial latex appliance that, once covered in black make-up, was truly frightening and completely disguised me. Did I mention the yellow cat-eye lenses? Yeah those, too.
This went over so well my first year at the Culbertson Haunted House I knew it was a keeper. But it needed improvement.
Gargoyle 2.0 got some new rubber wings that were much more realistic and some nice customized fangs.But that still wasn’t good enough for me.
Gargoyle 3.0 was the best. You know I’m obsessed with this costume when I spend $500 on an accessory. You know I’m even more crazy when I have to learn a new trick to use said accessory.
I learned how to stay upright on these wonderful springy things in about 10 minutes. In another 10 I was walking on them. Within a couple of days I’m walking laps around the block.
The neighbors had plenty to talk about that week. Some crazy bitch on stilts bouncing down the sidewalk.
I got some fake fur and vinyl made me some leggings with hooves. I got an old black shirt and added some shreds. I found some great looking monster gloves and for the wings... well, it’s great having a dad who’s a tool and die maker. I sketched out the bare-bones of the bat wings and a few days later Dad had created a skeletal form out of aluminum rods.
After I hand-stitched on some vinyl, we had us some mighty fine, large wings. Shut on up!
Wanna see?
Yup. Eight feet of sexy gargoyle... or Girlgoyle... or Hollygoyle as I’ve come to be known.
So this year, after putting Gargoyle 3.0 into the closet for a rest, it will be resurrected as Gargoyle 3.1. New face, new eyes... aw yeah...
A gargoyle version of Best Scares Ever coming soon...
I witnessed the '74 tornado, and the '95 tornado, the '94 blizzard and the '95 flood. I never thought I'd witness a hurricane.
Especially living in the mid-west.
Ike lost no steam as he charged into the Ohio Valley Sunday.
We had a photo shoot scheduled at noon the Mansion for Haunted House promo pictures. Just as I pulled out of my driveway on my way over, my cell phone rings the familiar tune for Mansion people. It's "J2," one of the staff, on the other end.
"Are you still coming out today to take pictures?"
"Yeah, I just literally left my driveway." "You DO know we've got all kinds of winds and tornadoes heading this way."
I'm looking at clear skies with bright sun and a slightly stronger-than-normal breeze. "Yeah... so? We're gonna be inside the Carriage House. We'll be fine."
"Well, just be careful coming over here."
The drive was uneventful. A little breezy, but not dangerous. The Focus weaved a little but even on the bridges I was okee dokee.
I get to the Mansion with no incidents, apart from one tree down on the opposite side of the interstate. There's a stronger gust on this side of the river but the sun is still shining. I go inside the Mansion and wait for our photographer (Nicograph) and our models to show up. One by one our people arrive unscathed. But the wind is getting a little stronger outside.
After about 45 minutes all our models have their creepy make-up and costumes on and we're ready to start shooting. That's when one of the staff runs in to tell us we lost our tent. We've had this tent since 1992. It has shielded Haunted House visitors, served as a dining area, housed Herb Sales and numerous other outdoor events for 16 years. It was exciting, frightening and saddening to watch it wrap itself around those two oaks. So now we have no tent. And Haunted House opens in less than 2 weeks. Shit. While we're all marveling at the tent fiasco, my eye catches the severe angle some of the trees are being blown to. Especially one tree about 10 feet from me that is slowly separating from the ground.After several bounces, it goes right over. Right onto two vehicles. One of which is Nicograph's car.The truly amazing thing is, it was completely undamaged. Not a scratch. The other car was unharmed, too. Looks like the wires and the iron fence kept it up.People are now frantically moving their cars to open areas as we continue to watch trees and powerlines crack and fall all around, not to mention roofs and shingles flying everywhere.
We shoo our photo subjects into the Carriage House and get locked in. We have to. If we don't lock the doors the wind will rip them right off the frames. I was dumb enough to try opening a door once, just to see how the world outside looked like at the moment. I almost got blown away. One of our actors had to grab me and the door and pull us back inside.
We spend a couple of hours inside taking pictures, listened to the wind beat the living hell out of the House, hoping there's no more serious damage being done to anything outside.
By the time we finish, the wind is slowly dying down. We emerge to what looks like a war zone. A few young trees in our backyard are snapped in half or completely uprooted. Several houses and churches on the street have trees laying on their roofs or actually in the building. Looking toward one of the major bridges back to Louisville we see a semi on its side, blocking the entire east bound side.
So much for going home that way.
We wait about another hour for the winds to die down enough that we feel safe driving and Nicograph and I head out. We both made it home ok. Nicograph came home to a centuries-old tree that crashed into her condo building and took out a couple of cars, too. Had her car been in its assigned parking spot, it would have been toast.
Looks like those New Albany trees are much more considerate.
So now there's over 200,000 people in the area with no power. Hundreds of traffic lights are still out. Driving around town is still an adventure, between dodging downed trees and people who don't know the failed-stoplight/four-way-stop rule.
The most amazing thing is... during this whole fiasco, the Mansion kept power the whole time. So did my home neighborhood. I kept calling the Spouse to check in. He said he heard trees crashing all around the neighborhood but our little cul de sac was unharmed.
Unfortunately, neither did our respective workplaces. While other people are staying hoe because of the city-wide power outage, we're stuck at work. (Note: while I was writing this at work, the power went out - yay for Blogger's autosave. We waited about two hours before the higher-ups sent us home. We have to call in tomorrow to see if we're running on juice before coming in.)
But on the good news front, the Mansion still stands without a scratch. And the centuries-old magnolia and oaks in their backyard survived. The rest of New Albany looks like a hurricane hit it.
But we don't get hurricanes. Not this far inland. No way. That's just crazy.
Those of you relatively new to the Hell Bus may not be familiar with my 'other' job. Since 1994 I'm been scaring the living shit out of people every autumn. For six years I did my spooking at the Haunted Hotel and I've been spooking (and managing) Literally, a Haunted House since 2000.Although I 'retired' from my Chairperson position after last season, I'm still heavily involved with this year's planning. I've been mentoring my assistant (now official Chair) and helping out with design, construction, organization, media relations... the list goes on. The staff insisted I stay on as 'co-chair.' Even tho I'm not officially running the place, it's still kinda 'my baby.' I may step away from being in charge, but I'll never give this up. It's just way too damn fun.
I have seen everything in this business we call scare. I've seen grown men cry. I've seen adults panic and quit. I've seen breakdowns, pass outs and people lose control of their stomachs, bladders and rectums.
Don't believe me? For the past two years we've kept a tally.
But there are some moments that stick out as being, well, special; the events that keep us veterans talking years after they happened.This is one of them:
During my third year at the Haunted Hotel I was working on the 2nd floor of the two-story house. Those 5 to 10 of us working the second floor would gather at the top of the stairs in between groups. We would talk, play cards, tell jokes, anything to pass the time and keep ourselves awake while we waited for the next group of people to come around the corner and head up the steps. Upon spotting the next group, we would all scatter at the speed of sound to our assigned spot and wait for the group to come thru our area. Group would come thru, booga booga booga, and we'd all run back to the top of the stairs again.
This particular night I was working in the first room on the second floor. Two guys were working the second room right next to me, so we could see each other if we leaned out of our spot.
Anyway, a group was on its way so we positioned ourselves and waited. Now for some reason, this particular group seemed to be taking an usually long time to get to my room. I waited and waited, poised and ready. Finally, after several minutes and no group, I was just about to peek around the corner to see what was up. Like I said, people have a real tendency to panic and quit, then leave thru the nearest fire exit.But I pulled back quickly as the shadowy shape of people came around the corner. I stood 'prop-still' as I observed the following:
The group consisted of 3 females. Girl Number 1 was black. I knew this because, even in the dim lighting, I could see the back of her hands since they were both covering her eyes.
Girl Number 1 is the leader, and she's hiding her face.
Girl Number 2 is a blonde white girl. Even tho she has the bravery not to cover her face, I know she's not handling this very well either because she's crying. And I don't mean a gentle weeping either. I mean a full out sobbing and wailing. She might be frantically looking around, but her arms are tightly wrapped around Girl Number 1's waist.
I have no idea what Girl Number 3 looked like because not only are her arms tightly wrapped around Girl Number 2's waist but her face is firmly buried in Girl Number 2's back.
The twisted daisy chain slowly shuffles their way into my area and I lunge with a snarl. All three of them, still tenanciously attached, slam against the opposite wall and nearly slide down, but manage to stay up on all 6 legs.
I could have really done some psychological damage at this point, considering how vulnerable these three gals were, but I'm so amused at their antics I can only stand back and watch them desperately and slowly slither along the wall into the next room.
This is where the real fun begins. I'm just gonna stand here and watch this.
Upon making it into the next room (please note, Girl Number 1 still has both hands covering her face), the three girls are so surprised by the two guys who jumped out like crazed psycho killers that they go crashing down to the floor.They are now lying on the floor, still holding on to one another's waist. Girl Number 1 still hasn't seen anything. Neither has Girl Number 3. But they are all sobbing and screaming and wiggling like a dying fish.
At this point, I'm having a hard time keeping my pants dry because I'm laughing so hard.
The psycho guys are dancing around, acting all crazy and evil, while the girls continue to writhe on the floor in a sobbing blob. After about 30 seconds of this the guys calm down. In fact, they actually break character and come to a complete halt to watch dumbfounded at this mess on the floor.
I've stopped laughing now. This is getting serious.
I hop out of my spot and walk over to the whole group. The guys and I continue to look down at the three conjoined sobbers as they continue to squirm helplessly on the floor. I bend down and say, "Ok, it's over. You saw it. Now go."
They don't move.
"Come on, it's ok. We're not gonna hurt ya. We're done. You can go now."
They won't move.
"Come on! There's more people coming behind you! You HAVE to GO!!"
Blondie is still crying and looking around at me and the other two guys like she doesn't know English. Girl Number 1 and 3 still have never seen anything. And they won't get up.
By now all three of us actors are shouting at them to get up and go. After several long moments they finally get it and somehow manage to stagger upright and bolt down the hall into total darkness, Girl Number 1 still leading with her hands over her face.
The three of us could only look at one another in total disbelief, which was quickly followed by some high fives.
One of the biggest challenges in the Haunt business is coming up with new ideas every season. Some haunts keep the same rooms and props every year because they are so popular. Our organization, however, tries to keep our house full of fresh, new things. Sure, we’ve had some favorites we might have used a couple years in a row, and there have also been a few old things we dug out of the closet and gave a fresh coat of paint to, but for the most part we try to offer something different every year.
