I love a good scary movie. And since going to see them by yourself isn't a good idea, I have Brenda, my scary movie buddy.
We have been to countless movies together, but nine times out of 10, it's a scary movie. The reason for this is because you lose a part of the scare if you watch it at home. Without the surround sound and giant picture, it's just not the same.
But when Brenda and I met up earlier this week to take in the paranormal thriller "The Conjuring," we weren't prepared for what was in store. We thought we'd get a good jump here and there, just like all the other movies we've seen before, and have a good laugh at ourselves.
But this would prove to not be our normal movie-going experience. The movie sucked us in and didn't let us go for two hours. I watched the majority of it in two positions: With my hands covering my face with a small slit to watch through or with my knees pulled up to my chest, peeping over them to see.
At one point, I jumped so high I nearly fell out of my seat. The man sitting a couple seats down decided he should check on me at this point.
"You OK over there?"
"Yeah, I think so. This is crazy!"
"Girl, I saw this thing on Friday. You ain't seen nothing yet!"
Oh great, I thought. I leaned over and told Brenda what he said. She had the same look of despair I had.
I've nearly soiled this seat twice, I thought, what else can they throw at us? A lot it seems.
When the ending credits started to roll across the screen and the lights came up, I turned to Brenda. She looked exhausted. It's then that I noticed how tense my shoulders and neck muscles were. Then I noticed my stomach was upset. I had literally just spent the last two hours completely stressed out.
What a movie! Little did I know, the fun was just starting.
I left to make the long drive home from Indy, where Brenda lives. Wanting to merge into the left-hand lane, I turned to look at my blind spot. As I was turning back forward, the seat belt moved up my neck. I screamed and tugged at my neck, not entirely sure of what had a hold of me. How I didn't wreck my car, I'll never know.
Later, I woke up in the middle of the night. Staring into the darkness, I instantly remembered scenes from the movie where the characters were awaken in the dead of the night at 3:07 a.m. Always at 3:07 a.m.
Out loud, as I reached for my phone to check the time, I began to repeat, "Please don't be 3:07. Please don't be 3:07. Please ..."
I can admit it's sad the amount of relief I felt when the phone glowed of 1:55 a.m. Shew.
I woke up the next morning with sore shoulders, almost as if I had done a full upper-body workout the evening prior.
I thought about telling Brenda about all this, but didn't want her to think I couldn't hold my scary movies.
About lunch time that day, she called. She was slightly out of breath.
"Misty! I bird just hit my car. I was just driving and boom, it hits my windshield. There were two of them but the second one missed me!"
At this point, she was practically screaming.
"Do you think it's the same birds from the movie?"
At this point, I was laughing. Not just at how comical her reaction was, but how it matched my own. And when she told me her shoulders were killing her this morning, I couldn't stop the laughter.
I guess this movie was just like all the other scary movies we've seen after all. It ended with us laughing at each other.
Misty Knisely is managing editor of the Pharos-Tribune. She can be reached at 574-732-5155 or at firstname.lastname@example.org