WTF Wednesday: I’m kind of afraid of the corn maze.
If you’re claustrophobic, wandering around a giant maze made of corn might not be the best way to spend a weekend afternoon. I mean, I think I’m pretty much a garden-variety claustrophobic and, to tell you the truth, mazes freak me right out.
The main things that trigger my claustrophobia involve a lack of control on my part — elevators, airplanes, and holding cells (I’ve been in these only in a professional capacity to see clients, I swear.) are big ones. The good news is that in a maze, I’ll be in control to some extent and it’s not a small, enclosed space. That said, I can imagine freaking out if I’m in a maze and can’t reasonably easily find my way out. Looking at the map pictured here, imagine you’re, say, wandering around in the letter “R” of “FORM” and you realize you have to pee and/or are really hungry and you forgot to replace the granola bar in your bag after eating it in a sorry attempt at dessert when no leftover brownies appeared in the office kitchen Friday afternoon. You have to get from there all the way over to the left side of the map to reach the maze entrance/exit. That’s far and, well, you have to go through a maze to get there. How do you even figure that out?
Don’t worry. I’m not going to call 911 if we get stuck in the maze. Of course I’m planning to not get stuck in the maze at all. My claustrophobic maze-completion plan goes something like this:
- Bring a map of the maze.
- Bring a functional compass. I tried to get an app for that, but unfortunately no compass apps that actually work are compatible with my old-ass iPhone 3G that, by the way, is on its last iLegs. Note which direction the entrance/exit faces.
- Bring snacks, for real.
- Be cautious in my maze exploration, even if it means lingering behind the brave members of our party.
- If all else fails, always go left.
- If all else really fails, check into the maze on Foursquare so many times I become mayor and people recognize this as a cry for help.
This seems like it will work, right? If you don’t hear from me by Sunday evening, send some K-9s to Chatfield. And beer.
