House of Horror is a pretty fun time, let's get that out of the way. It's like a low-budget Santa's Enchanted Forest. And as you know, Santa's Enchanted Forest has the budget of a middle-class white teenage girl, so make of that what you will.
But what's it all about? Is it worth spending the $23 to chill in a mall parking lot while a dude in a ghoul costume seamlessly switches between doing the Dougie and scaring your daughter into celibacy? Yeah, dude, it is.
As an amusement park, you can find the typical carnival fare:
fattening food, scummy games, and gross negligence of mechanical
equipment. If you listen closely, you can actually hear the lawsuit
paperwork being typed by a paralegal as one of the many
spin-until-I-shit-myself rides breaks down and kills four innocent
junior high school kids doing what junior high school kids do. Playing
pogs, or whatever. Kids still do that, right?
That's the next thing you
notice -- all the little tweens engaging in PDA and dressing like women.
Seriously, there's so much jailbait at House of Horror, they could film
two or three seasons of To Catch a Predator in a single night.
Obviously,
that sort of crowd is to be expected, and that's part of what makes it
fun. The rides are another attraction. There's a house of mirrors, kid's
fun house, bumper cars, and a slide. The rest of the stuff is prone to a
21-gun salute. Most of the rides are of the spinning variety, which
seems to be the popular choice amongst teens and moldable pottery clay.
Finally,
the haunted house, the centerpiece of the experience. Once inside,
you're queued up again briefly and separated into groups. You're led
into a small, dark room where an ominous voice cuts through the
darkness.
"Welcome to the House of Horror!" - You're excited.
"Prepare to shit yourself out of abject fear!" - You're anxious and ready.
"Muahahaha! Dread awaits you!" - You're clutching to your friends for dear life.
"But
first, a few ground rules. Don't touch the actors. Don't run in the
house. If you're prone to epilepsy, please exit the house immediately.
Those with heart conditions..." - You're laughing your ass off.
Way
to fuck up the illusion. I know attorney-happy Americans need to be
warned of everything so the lowest common denominator among us doesn't
shit his pants in a haunted house and then sue the company for punitive damages, but come on.
Even
the most hardened war veterans will receive a startle or two as they
make their way through the strobe lights and darkness. Sure, most of the
scaring comes from an impromptu "OOGA BOOGA BOO" from someone who was
blending in with the scenery. But on occasion, you'll be scared by the
fact that one of those actors has a prison tat.
Speaking of prison,
another thing that ruins the illusion is how they have a cop in a
bright white shirt in every other room. And he's just sitting there with
his shiny-ass badge smirking at people as they pass by. At least give
the cop a machete or something. One guy exclaimed, "Oh shit, son, that
cop's the scariest thing in here! I got warrants!"
Fine, no one actually said that.
All
in all, House of Horror is a decent way to spend a lazy October evening. Go
there, ride a few rides, eat a few treats, subject yourself to some fear
in the haunted house, listen to some music by the stage, play some
carnival games, then go home and hit the Bowflex for three hours to burn
off all the elephant ears.
House of Horror is open until October 31 at Miami International Mall (1205 NW 107th Ave. Doral). Tickets cost $15 for kids and $23 for adults. Visit houseofhorrorpark.com.
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