A tradition that has grown with the popularity of Halloween is the “Haunted Trail” or “Haunted Maze,” a sort of expansion upon the age old “Haunted House” concept that had been so popular long ago until people realized that a house, or usually rather, a part of a house, was too short for the amount of terror one wanted to inflict upon somewhat unsuspecting victims. Nowadays, practically every amusement park has some Halloween overlay, where at least some mazes are brought out for public enjoyment. Living in Southern California and being close to Hollywood, this usually means that the majority of the mazes here will have some horror movie tie-in, though they honestly begin to blend together, once the parks transplant the same gags to different backgrounds you quickly learn what exactly to expect.

I avoided the haunted maze scene for many years, until one year I decided to pay a visit to Universal Studios Hollywood, and what was at the time “The Mummy” maze. Being a weekend afternoon in March, the maze was scarcely populated with roving actors that typically populate the maze; nooks and crannies of the maze where faces usually peered out were noticeably empty or temporarily filled with a dummy head on a stick. I had the good fortune (or perhaps not so good fortune) of entering the maze behind a group of particularly loud girls, whose screams gave our group plenty of advance warning as to the surprises that awaited us in the next room. It was for this reason that I spent most of my time in the maze shaking hands with mummies and anubises and asking how their day was going. Walking out of the rather barren maze, I was reminded of the haunted house that my elementary school had put together, and how comparably better it was, or at least seemed to be when I was a little kid.

In elementary school, it was an annual tradition to hold Halloween carnival, where our playground was temporarily turned into a collection of red and white striped tents containing your standard carnival fare; ball tossing in various iterations, spinning wheels, and sand art being usual staples. Along the side were small food carts, offering up cotton candy, popcorn, and other culinary delights kept our grade school energy levels up and spending our parents' money. The library was temporarily commandeered and transformed into a haunted house – the windows covered with black butcher paper and the insides painted in blacklight, with gags from the local party supply store. Volunteers from the sixth grade class took turns dressing in black and jumping up on the unsuspecting guests. There was a great deal of pride in our haunted house; particularly when teachers would pay a token visit and we would be able to get them back for all our struggles in class. While we never had the budget or special effects of Hollywood, our liberal application of glow in the dark paint and fake blood seemed to make up for it, and that was more than enough for us.