So, when I went to Disney World during SHOT '02, I went to the Haunted Mansion. The place gave me the creeping willies as a kid and I'm not a hundred percent sure I kept my eyes open the whole way through the last time I'd been there as a young teenager, so I was looking forward to seeing my childhood spooks and bugbears with grownup eyes.
There's the preliminary wander in
that gets increasingly creepy until you wind up in the big room that's
actually an elevator. And the narrator is doing his thing as the floor
starts to lower and the ceiling gets higher and the lights dim...and
then go out. There's a crack of thunder and, in a flash of simulated lightning in the dark, you see the
dead body hanging above you on the other side of the painted cheesecloth scrim of
And this kid that was in the room with
us just Lost. His. Shit. I don't mean he whimpered, cried, or yelled. I
mean that this ululating, Lovecraftian "Had-His-Sanity-Blasted-From-His-Mind" noise
came air-raid-sirening from the kid and he and his folks had to be discreetly herded out a side
entrance rather than board the ride.
Definitely set the tone for the rest of the ride.