In a rare moment of cruelty, Husband forever crushed my single greatest dream.
He’s super serious about not doing the haunted boat tour.
I know! It’s so unfair! Now I’ll never know if the boat is haunted or if it takes you to haunted locations or if it’s a haunted boat that takes you to other haunted boats or if the river is haunted… so many questions, and I’ll never know.
ME: The consensus on the internet is that we need to go on that haunted boat tour. There are just so many possibilities!
HIM: Not taking a ghost on a boat.
ME: Right… because of the implications. Whatever that means.
HIM: I don’t even know if we have a ghost!
ME: You said we did.
HIM: Yeah, but sometimes I say really stupid things.
ME: (fumbling with phone) Why am I never recording when you admit that?
HIM: I wouldn’t say it if you were recording.
Fortunately, I found a way to rebound from this upset. Mere days after I accepted that ghost boats would never be in my future, I got a call from my friend Kira, wanting to know if I’d go with her on a haunted walking tour.
Once again, I found myself getting enthused without actually knowing anything about the proposed activity. (If you’re sensing a theme, you’re a little late to this party.) But this time, the event was put on by our local Historical Society, and my friend who works there (busily ensuring that every park bench, drinking fountain, and tree in town is a pokéstop) could be counted on to ensure that the event was legit, the locations were actually haunted, and – perhaps most importantly – that the booze would be perfectly acceptable. (Yeah, around here we don’t do much that doesn’t include a drink or six. I fucking love this town.)
ME: (via skype) We’re doing this, for Kira’s birthday. (sends link)
HIM: Okay… but what is it? Is it a haunted house?
ME: We’re doing it.
HIM: But what is it?
ME: IT’S KIRA’S BIRTHDAY, AND I DIDN’T GET TO DO THE HAUNTED BOAT THING SO YOU OWE ME.
We decided to go with our husbands – because they whine when we leave them behind, and we’re always a fun foursome – and with two other friends of Kira’s because… well, because they were going to lump us in groups of six anyway, and this way Kira didn’t have to worry about me offending strangers.
Normally, I’m not down for doing a lot of walking around at night – because it limits my options for cute shoes, you see – but the rules clearly stated that flat, practical shoes were required due to all the steep stairs and graveyard stuff. Yes, graveyard.
Haunted mansions, graveyards, and rum punch? Sign me up twice!
ME: Okay, so we’re meeting everyone at 6, at a restaurant to be named later.
HIM: The restaurant isn’t named yet? They should really get on that. It’s not easy to find a place if you can’t look it up on google maps. Will they even have time to print menus?
HIM: I love you!
We may have made a teeeeny error in judgment, when we finally did pick a restaurant, in that we chose one known for their whisky selection as well as the food. So we were already “socially lubricated” by the time we arrived at the event, only to discover that there would be a delay – and the nice curators were kindly suggesting that we go have a drink before our tour.
Yeah, you see what’s coming here, right? I’m ashamed to admit that we spent the first stop on the tour giggling and scaring each other more than paying attention to the actual history of the property. Now, you know I’m a scare actor – I work in a place where we’re trying for a certain mood, and I know how annoying drunk people are, so I’d like to take this opportunity to apologize to the nice historical folks for being those people.
But, in our defense, you made a rum punch that tasted exactly like everything we love about autumn, and you served it to us before putting us in a dark room where we could poke each other and make the nervous one scream and twitch. So, that’s kind of on you.
The rest of the tour went much better, and the alcohol probably helped us get into the spirit of things (heh, see what I did there?) although I’d also like to point out, to the creepy old woman who led us through that last house: you said I wasn’t allowed to ask questions, but then when I asked you if we were going to go check out that room with the blood seeping out from under the door you said “no” and technically that was answering a question, so I think that proved that questions are allowed and I would like an apology for the dozen other questions you answered with an evil glare. Also, thank you for not eating me, even after I said that I didn’t want to be the one to follow right behind you because you looked like the sort of person who would do that.
Let’s see, what can I tell you about it… Oh! At one point, I freaked out at a moving shadow in a creepy basement and threw Jake (Kira’s husband) at it. Not shoved, threw. Picked him right up and tossed him, screaming “Take him!” He, in turn, screamed that I was a jerk. At my back. While I ran the hell out of there.
I don’t know why he’s so mad… I mean, isn’t it a good thing to know your friends will survive the zombie apocalypse? And, more importantly, how? Clearly, I’ll be just fine as long as I keep a steady supply of people I can lift around me. He, in turn, needs to make sure he gains enough weight that I can’t lift him (I’ll bet he thought he met that requirement before – ha!) and that I’m a little protein deprived, just in case. See? Easy.
Husband, I am sad to report, didn’t get as much out of the experience as the rest of us. I’m telling you, he’s just no fun at all this time of year!
HIM: Yeah, that’s why I was sending you ahead and staying behind, because all of you were getting way more out of it than I was.
ME: And I was like, why am I in front?
HIM: You kept pushing ahead!
ME: There was something behind me too!
HIM: That was me!
He’s lucky I didn’t throw him.