Megan and I have had a casual relationship with horror films since our first movie date. Way back in — oh, 2006 — we rented the film Ghost Lake. There are only thre reviews on Rotten Tomatoes, but they are as follows:
Bad horror movies usually have one good quality – short run time – The director of Ghost Lake didn’t get the memo. 106 minutes of pure torture. — Nukleo Patra
Amador. No pior sentido da palavra. — Guilherme Jorge Huyer
The movie that pales in comparison to its own rather slick DVD case. — Scott Weinberg, DVDTalk.com
The second one probably says “I’m going to Ghost Lake myself.” Which means suicide. Wait, no, that’s my review. That one is in Portuguese and it says, “Amador. In the worst sense of the word.” Google translate couldn’t figure out the word “amador.” probably because it’s some kind of awful Portuguese curse word; the equivilant of our “C” word. The third review was the same hook that got us to rent the film in the first place.
In any case, the film was awful. It did, however, stand right in line with our love of horror films, good and bad . . . because when you see a bad horror film, it’s down right funny. Like the time we watched the 1970s film Zombie, where a zombie is thrown form a hospital window. We get an overhead shot of Zombie falling many stories to the concrete. Then you realize it’s a dummy when it hits the pavement and its arm shoots straight out from it’s body. Perfect.
Well, in honor of our anniversary (this Monday, I combined Megan’s love for stupid horror films with her love for amusement parks and got us tickets to Universal Halloween Horror Nights. Yeah, the first anniversary gift is paper, and those tickets were made of paper, so there! I took Megan to a giant haunted house with roller coasters. Nothing says love like screaming. A fog. Lot and lots of fog.
Now, I didn’t get just any tickets. I’m not some schlub. I got “Front of Line Tickets.” Ooooohh. That’s right ladies. I’m taken. Go get your own man with just enough Birthday money to take his wife out to a haunted house. We’re rare, but we’re out there.
These passes allowed us to skip the long lines for each attraction letting us wait no longer than 10-15 minutes. If you decide to go, it’s well worth the money. If you can’t afford it, then don’t go. Some of the regular lines were up to 2 hours long. That’s a scary situation in and of itself. Especially the idea of being stuck in line with some of the more undesirable folks there.
Here were the highlights. Teenagers screaming to get off the tram when we started riding through the Walking Dead area . . . even though we were in the last car and the driver had no way to hear them. Teenagers grabbing and shoving Megan and I in the Walking Dead maze as if we were their parents. Teenagers getting in line for a picture with Norman Bates at the Psycho house and then realizing it’s “just some old house” and getting out of line.” Teenagers screaming at every movement in the park like a screaming tourettes babies. Teenagers.
Oh, and fat teenagers.
Oh, and the Transformers 3D ride breaking down on us . . .
Okay, I’m really drawing a bleak picture here, aren’t I. Those were minor, minor parts. Most of it was a blast. There was the show, Bill and Ted’s Excellent Halloween Journey. It was a live show that pretty much spit out every pop culture reference you could think of from the past year. Go ahead, give me a pop culture reference and I guarantee it was there. Batman: check. Hunger Games: check. Kristen Stewart: check. Tanning Mom: check.
I think my favorite Megan moment was when we were walking through the back lot which had been turned into a Walking Dead zone. A bunch of guys dressed as CDC agents wielding chainsaws came up to us and I pointed at Megan saying, “She’s infected.” They surrounded her, buzzing their chain saws in her face on her back towards her feet . . . and she just stood there smiling. It was pretty funny . . . and cute.
It was a really fun night. Pretty much the perfect way to celebrate our relationship . . . clinging to each other in fear.