Opinions Editor James Wendt takes us through his journey at the spooky attraction

By Opinions Editor James Wendt

I sat sobbing in the passenger seat of my friend Claire’s car, and I was sure of three things. First, the night was young, but would soon take a turn toward the undead. Second, I was not nearly as embarrassed as I should have been about shedding tears at the thought of a haunted house. Third, Statesville had destroyed me before I had even arrived.

Saturday night, four friends and I sped down Weber Road toward Statesville Haunted Prison, and I was rightfully hesitant to go to a haunted house; I nearly soiled myself watching “Insidious,” and when I was in third grade I sought professional help because I thought I heard someone sharpening knives in the kitchen while I slept. Needless to say, I was not a strong candidate for this favorite Halloween pastime. Carving pumpkins would have probably been more up my alley, but then again, I would have to use knives, about which (as you now know) I have my misgivings.

We expedited the wait by purchasing our tickets online, which I would recommend to anyone braving the Statesville experience. Even in line, I was panicking enough to be at least considered for admittance to the mental unit inside a real prison. And with good reason. This prison’s welcoming crew was made up of offensive undesirables ranging from the inappropriately named “Fluffy” and the sensually disgusting “Blood B****”.

The hour-and-a-half wait was well worth the thrill delivered by the main attraction. After being packed into a cage, we were herded into another waiting area to begin the tour of the haunted prison. Overall, there was a repeated pattern of being herded from area to area and packed together: claustrophobics, consider yourselves warned.

I entered the first of the two-part walk-through with chutzpah and foolhardy bravery. I was determined that the actors would not shake me or my bowels. For the most part, this rang true. The prison preyed on those who fear the creepy intimacy of disturbing interactions. The actors played mind games and got in our faces as we tried to navigate our way through. I found myself winking at the actors a lot to keep from crying, screaming, and peeing, which seemed inappropriate, but hey, everyone copes differently. At one point, a startling, slithery, snake-like actor approached me, and out of fear I said, “Yo wus’ up baby. Watchu doin’ after this.” Embarrassing and scary.

After emerging from the “Haunted Prison,” it was time to enter the “City of the Dead,” the second part of the Statesville experience. I had come out from part one a changed man, or at least a more mentally unstable one. I decided to shed my bravery, and face the City of the Dead with fear and terror. I wanted to be scared. My friend Claire made the excellent observation that Statesville plays to everyone’s individual fears: clowns, spiders, snakes, public bathrooms, and more. Fortunately, part two featured more surprises and fewer mind games. The actors popped out at every corner, and I was running through my vocabulary of curse words faster than Usain Bolt on the track. In one room, Claire and I were literally jumping up and down on the ground as the F-word blurted from our mouths in fear.

Emerging victorious from the second and final part, we began our journey home. We reminisced on our favorite parts. Mine were the tunnels that spun around us as the floor underneath us swung side to side, the strobe light clown room, and the airbags we had to force our way through, which I related to reverse birthing. We also came up with some Statesville tips:

1.) Buy your tickets online.

2.) Do not fear being scared. Embrace it. It’s more fun.

3.) Bring a group of people you can hold hands with and do not mind accidentally grinding on in tight, spider-web-ridden places.

4.) Scream.

5.) Bring an extra pair of undies.

Those who wish to spend a night on a death wish, look no further than Statesville Haunted Prison.