I Didn’t Pee My Pants at The CAPA Haunted House (But Almost!)

The CAPA Haunted House is a much-awaited tradition among students and teachers alike. In the past ten years, it has included themes such as a traditional haunted house, a funhouse freak show, and a haunted hospital. Mr. Kaufman, our MDTV teacher, whom I met in a half-decorated room, confidently declared his creation “gets bigger and better every year”.

This October, the theme was “Rock and Roll Hall of Pain”, decided by Mr. Kaufman and senior theater major Emma Pflug as they bonded over their shared love of Rock and Roll Music and “all things horror.” By the time I first met Kaufman, two weeks out to the opening night, the six rooms had designated designs, the cast members had set roles, and a successful bake sale had been held to alleviate the costs of props. Kaufman had begun to build the sets, while seniors Emma Pflug and Eden Kim assisted actors one-on-one; they expected to do a full run-through that Friday. “This year is gonna be the best,” Kaufman assured me. 

I didn’t doubt it. I attended the “CAPA Horror Story” themed haunted house last year, when I was a freshman, and it was successful in summoning screams. This year, as I waited with friends in the winding line outside the MDTV room, I saw 9th graders go in unfazed and come out panting. “It is amazing to me that people get legitimately scared coming through. They come through screaming, they are sometimes afraid to walk into the next room,” Kaufman warned. “I have been told a little boy peed his pants once. I don’t think we’ve had anyone pass out.”

I felt as though I was well prepared. The haunted house was well prefaced by classmates a part of the formidable display, who told tales of their rehearsals. In my last period Spanish class, Ms. Kramney stumbled in wearing a torn, bloodstained white tee shirt and a face full of gauzy greenish scars, with her head jarred at a freakish angle. “Helllowwwwwww,” she growled at Ms. Kane, who looked up from her desk and giggled. 

Finally, a guide welcomed my group inside. We gingerly navigated the rooms full of costumed actors, some with fangs - all with blood - prepared to hiss and scream, flash too-wide smiles, and jump on their unsuspecting prey. Hands clawed and occasionally waved at classmates and friends in a rare break of character. Red lighting illuminated the stages of musicians Riley Haworth, Toby McDonald, and Dylan Mchale. Three Elvis impersonators, dressed in sideburns and white suits, wrestled each other and offered to pose in group photos. Upon exiting with the faint lyrical echo of “Zombie” by The Cranberries in my ears, I was filled with immense pride to attend a school that unites to create. I went with a Masterman student, and she aptly said, “We don’t do anything like this at my school.”