Tuesday, October 11, 2011

"Get Me Out of Here!"

As I mentioned in a previous post, even though I love Halloween, I'm a total baby when it comes to scary movies.  So you can imagine how much of a BIGGER baby I was when I was an actual baby.

Okay, not a baby, but a child.  When I was a kid, I was terrified by ghosts and monsters under my bed and things that go bump in the night.  My sister, on the other hand, loved all of that stuff.  But what she loved even more was tormenting me.

When I was seven, and she was ten, we went on a family trip to Disney World.  My sister was dying to go on the Haunted Mansion ride; I was terrified.  But unfortunately I was outvoted.  Both my parents wanted to go on it, and neither of them wanted to be the one to wait with me while the other one got to ride the ride.

So there we were, all four of us, waiting in line.  My heart was pounding, my limbs shaking.  Then we got into the big elevator and the Scary Man with the Booming Voice started saying "enter if you dare" and it was "too late" to get out.  I tugged on my dad's hand.  "I want to get out," I whispered.

"It's fine," he told me.  "It won't be scary; I promise."

Oh, parents.  Don't ever make a promise you can't keep.

Then the elevator started to descend...and the pretty paintings started to elongate, revealing their true horror.  "Get me out of here," I said, a lot louder.  People started to look at us.

We got off the elevator and lined up to get in the cars.  "GET ME OUT OF HERE!" I yelled.

The Disney Cast Members working the ride pulled my parents aside.  "There's an exit," they said.  'You can still take her out."

"No, no," my parents insisted.  "She'll be fine."

Really?  REALLY?!

And then came the worst thing my parents have ever done to me.  They climbed into one car BY THEMSELVES and left me to get into a separate car...WITH MY SISTER.

My tormentor...the one who never missed an opportunity to scare the crap out of me...they abandoned me in her care.

No sooner had we ascended the first hill into the mansion when I started screaming.  Really loud.  My sister had no sympathy whatsoever.  She kept telling me what a baby I was being.

After we passed through the Banquet Hall of Horrors, I gave up and simply slid down onto the floor of the car and curled up in the fetal position.

Several minutes passed.  I looked up at my sister through my tears.  "Is it almost over?"

"Yeah," she said.  "You can get up now."

I climbed back onto the seat and opened my eyes...just in time to pass the trick mirrors that makes it appear as if a ghost is sitting RIGHT NEXT TO YOU in the car.

Thanks a lot, darling sister.

I started screaming all over again.  Finally, the ride came to an end.  I climbed out of the car, my legs shaking, my face streaked with tears...but I was alive!  My parents grabbed me and held me tight.  Apparently the sound of my screaming from the car behind them had kicked their parental guilt into high gear.  "Is there ANYTHING we can do to make it up to you?" my mom asked.

Why, yes.  Yes, there was.  And I proceeded to make my mother take me on Dumbo...seven times in a row.

Nicole Maggi lives in Los Angeles, CA with her amazingly supportive husband and is a mom to one-year-old Emilia.  She worked as an actress for many years in New York before the lure of sunshine and avocados enticed her to the West Coast.  Though she still acts, her focus now is on her writing.  In her very limited spare time, Nicole enjoys yoga, hiking, baking (and eating what she bakes), reading, reading, watching reruns of LOST, and more reading.  Please follow her on Twitter so she can reach her goal of 1000 followers by her book's release date!
P.S.  The Haunted Mansion is now one of her favorite rides.


  1. I can relate to being scared of everything when I was a kid, too. Although, I was never really scared of The Haunted Mansion. At least not enough to avoid it. That is one of the best rides at Disneyland!

    This was such a cute story, and you got back at your parents, didn't ya!

  2. You poor little thing!! It's amazing how our parents scar us without realizing it. I should start saving now for all the psychotherapy my kids will need because of me!

  3. By the way, my sister read this post and said she remembers this VERY differently.