I have mentioned before my dislike of violence and scary gory things. I have also mentioned my desire to not be viewed as to horribly strange. In the fall when i was a mere slip of a girl ( somewhere between 11 and now) these two things warred with each other resulting in me going to a ” haunted house”. I was predictably to cool to say hell no so i stood in line internally freaking out ” isn’t this goofy” . I handed over my money entered the dim interior and got unexplainabley lost, spinning in a circle and squinting like a mole person to the point one of the monsters pointed me in the right direction. The experience ranged from gross to sad until…. Someone/ thing jumped out at me sending me into the flight portion of fight or flight. Except what i thought was an emergency door was actually just a dark spot painted onto the plywood ” wall” . When i was kicked out of the haunted house i was not indignant i was grateful and completely humiliated. That is the story of how i made that haunted house my bitch, aka sorry i freaked and took out that wall.