Kare Bear Scare

So, I like horror movies and I’m not particularly frightened at the thought of walking down dark streets in the middle of the night, in the middle of the ghetto (I know that I should be, but after too many years of living around USC, I’ve become a bit desensitized). Why is it then, that I am such a wimp when it comes to haunted houses/mazes/pumpkin patches/etc? When faced with situations that actually are dangerous and certainly warrant fright and caution, I can say to myself, “what’s the worst that could happen? Afterall, since I know where I’m going when I die, there is nothing to worry about, ultimately.” Ah yes, but fictitious danger is different…and I’m not quite sure why.

The provocation for today’s musings is a trip that I took to Knott’s Scary Farm this past Saturday night with friends. I got completely freaked out, including chattering teeth and the whole bit - a total Shaggy/Scooby complex. And this was all without going in a single maze, walkthru, or attraction of any sort. Just the costumed mild-apprehension-mongers milling about were enough to make my hair stand on end. Sitting now in the cold clear light of my computer screen, I wonder how I managed to get so scared and worked up. Maybe it’s the whole notion of the fictional becoming a physical presence. And then having it breath down my neck (which actually and literally happened). Or maybe, as I said before, I’m a wimp.

Zoinks!