So, let me take you back to 1995, when I was a junior in high school. A big group of friends decided to get together and visit a local Haunted House. I had never been so a Haunted House before, and I had no idea what to expect. In addition to my nerves about the house o' terror, I was crushing on a boy who had plans to join our group that fateful evening. Score! I had visions of him cuddling me close, comforting me from the bigs and bads that were sure to await us.
As I'm sure you know, real life never turns out the way we think it will in our heads. The boy barely paid any attention to me, other than to huddle against my back and push me in front of him so he wouldn't have to be the leader. I was TERRIFIED. There was fake blood, screams, gore... dear goodness, I was just praying for the thing to be over. And eventually it was, or so I thought. We walked out the door, and I took a big breath of relief... and then came the chainsaw, right at my head.
I peed in my pants. Yes, you read that right. I was so scared that I peed in my pants at the age of 16.
Now I think it is funny. Then it was just humilitating. Right?