The Hype
Halloween Adventures at Britt's Garden Acres by Samuel Sargent In theory, an overcast sky, chilly breeze, and a slow drizzle is the perfect weather for Halloween activities. In practice, nobody wants to freeze when they can just grab a pumpkin from Walmart and rush back to the warmth of their car. Nevertheless, it was with some reluctance that we set out toward Britt's Garden Acres in search of Halloween fun and adventure. Fortunately, despite teasing us with dark clouds and occasional bursts of precipitation, the weather cooperated and afforded us an enjoyable Saturday afternoon. Located on the western outskirts of Manhattan, Britt's is a short drive for a unique experience. During the spring and summer, they offer fresh fruits and vegetables at farmers’ markets and produce stands around the area, but in the fall they transform into a festive experience for the whole family. If it's pumpkins you're looking for, the selection is impressive, with fruits of all shapes, sizes and colors: orange, white, bluish-grey, reddish-orange, and even beige. The selection includes tiny, decorative pumpkins and perfectly-sized jack-o-lanterns, as well as gourds so large you need both arms to wrestle them. Conveniently, they provide little, purple wagons, serving as shopping carts, to haul off their variety of pumpkins to suit every need. If pumpkins aren't your thing, they also offer potatoes, onions, zucchini, and apple cider, among other things to tempt your palette. After trundling our pumpkins into the car, it was time to head down to the “fun zone.” For $7.50, you get to experience everything they have to offer, including picking a pumpkin fresh from the patch. You even get to choose which hand stamp you want as proof of admission: a pumpkin or a tractor! I opted for the pumpkin, due to bad memories caused by tractor-related injuries from my youth. My fiancée, Shay, was most interested in the hay ride, so that was our first stop. Despite growing up in Texas and spending summers in Canada, she somehow managed to completely avoid the countryside. She saw a live deer for the very first time on our first date. I, on the other hand, grew up in rural Missouri. Riding in a straw-lined trailer was how we got to school. Nonetheless, it was a relaxing ride -- around the corn maze, past the pumpkin patch, through the jalapeño pepper fields -- to grandmother's house we go. Next up was the easy corn maze, which wasn't so much a maze as a nice jaunt through the field, with an occasional potential diversion from the main path. It takes about five minutes to get through the easy maze if you take your time and stop for a few photographs. After safely avoiding the children of the corn, we crossed over to the main activities area. We skipped the petting zoo, filled with a plethora of barnyard animals,
but seriously contemplated whether the bouncy house was large enough to support my weight. I suspect it was, but chose not to test the theory so not to traumatize a little girl who was leaping about to her heart's content. I couldn't, however, pass up the potato cannon, a steam powered device that lived up to it's name, launching tubers across the sky like miniature rockets. There was a pumpkin serving as a target but each of my shots sailed well above it, easily traveling an extra 50 yards. I fear for any birds that may unwittingly fly into the path of the spud launcher. Also available were photo boards (the kind you stick your face in for funny pictures), a series of plastic tubes running through mounds of dirt for kids to climb through, and something that resembled a giant pumpkin which I suspect was a playhouse. Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater roleplay anyone? At this point, Shay is tiring, but I can't pass up the opportunity to get lost in the larger corn maze, thus turning this into a harrowing tale of survival that could garner book deals and movie options. Can James Franco really pass up the part of a man lost in a corn maze for weeks? So I kiss Shay goodbye, tell her I love her, and pose for one final photo before disappearing into the corn. After a couple of twists and turns, I come upon the first potential trap, three paths branching off in different directions. As I ponder my options, I discover the first rule of successful corn maze navigation: observe others. If there are three paths and someone comes out of one and immediately heads down another, follow them. They already know that the other two are part of one big loop. After that insight, things go smoothly, though it helps that the next few loops are smaller and a bit obvious. I don't encounter anyone else for quite some time and am feeling rather confident about my maze navigation skills (all those childhood Fun Pads finally paying off) when I come to another section with three branches and no obvious route. Simple enough, pick a path and forge on. Worst case scenario, I end up back where I started. What shakes my swagger, however, is a piece of blue cloth tied around a corn stalk. Had someone become so lost that they were forced to utilize survival techniques? Am I about to stumble upon the remains of a group of thrill seekers who have resorted to cannibalism in order to survive? After all, there was nobody keeping track of who entered or exited the maze. Someone could be lost in here for days and nobody would know. But just as I'm about to lose all hope, a low flying plane passes through the sky. Of course -- the airport is just down the road. I can always signal for help with the incredibly bright flashlight app on my Droid 3. If I unleash that sucker into the night sky, I'll draw attention from neighboring galaxies.
8 - October 20, 2011 - www.thehypeweekly.com
Speaking of my phone, I still have 3G service out in the field, so I could just call for help in the event of a cannibal attack. Out of curiosity, I pull up Google Maps, but the Street View team hasn't made it through the maze yet either. I try to get turn-by-turn directions, but the robot lady calls me a wuss. Through sheer luck, I manage to choose the right path and things proceed nicely, until I take a wrong turn and hit a dead end. At this point I figure out rule number two of professional corn maze navigation: fake it. When you encounter a dead end, pretend to be photographing an interesting ear of corn or loudly announce that you believe those were fox tracks you were following, thus convincing anyone who stumbles in behind you that you meant to come this way. You don't want to appear lost and scared when you encounter a stranger. Romances have blossomed in odder places than a corn labyrinth. After the dead end, I think I am almost free. I can tell I am close to the end by the proximity of the bouncy house, which I am just tall enough to see over the tops of the stalks. But no, it isn't that easy. I round a corner and discover myself in a large clearing, big enough to support a battle between zombie cannibals and pork ninjas. Could there be slow mutants lurking within the corn? Worse, there were half-adozen paths exiting the clearing. Is this the test through which I will finally become a man? Suddenly, a pair of teenage girls come screaming from one of the paths. I go for my knife, only to remember I don't carry a knife. Then I realize they were giggling, not screaming and any fear on their faces is probably due to having just witnessed a large man pull an invisible knife from his belt. They look about, a bit unsure of themselves, and head down the leftmost path. Abiding by a personal rule about never following the lead of a teenage girl, I go a different way entirely. Once again, my amazing instincts pay off. As I near the end of the very long final corridor, another rule of expert corn maze navigation occurs to me: always enhance the experience of others. No, this doesn't mean you should hide in the corn and scare other people when they pass by. After all, mace is cheaper than gasoline these days. But there's nothing wrong with, say, chucking an ear of corn near the location of other mazegoers, convincing them that a honey badger is about to leap for their throats. Yelps of terror are your reward for a job well done. So finally, I emerge from my hellish ordeal. Checking my watch, I see that it has taken me exactly 15 minutes, walking at a leisurely pace. As the sign at the entrance said the hard maze required 20 to 30 minutes to navigate, I accept this as final proof of my new found status as a corn maze master. After one final stop to pick up our pie-quality pumpkins, at which point the rain finally starts to fall in earnest, I head back to the car. Next adventure? Pumpkin pie from scratch. But first I need to go buy a knife. And can someone make sure James Franco gets my number? Britt's Garden Acres is located at 1400 S Scenic Drive, just north of Fort Riley Blvd. They're open weekends through October 30th. On the nights of the 22nd, 28th and 29th, the corn maze is converted into a “Scary Maze” which they recommend for ages 12 and up.