It’s rare to see guys in their 20s running like scared little girls through the streets of Calico Ghost Town, but Alberto made my Knott’s Scary Farm dreams come true — and I did my best to fill his nightmares with visions of my monstrous alter ego chasing him in relentless pursuit.
I got to suit up alongside the Ghost Town monsters in complete costume and makeup and see first-hand what it takes to be a “scareactor” at Knott’s Berry Farm during the annual Halloween Haunt event.
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I had the time of my life scaring the living daylights out of Knott’s employees and their guests during Scary Farm Associates Night on Tuesday, Sept. 19 at the Buena Park theme park.
The 50th anniversary lineup of Knott’s Scary Farm will feature 10 haunted mazes, five scare zones and four live shows on select nights from Thursday, Sept. 21 through Oct. 31.
I spotted Alberto immediately along Fog Alley in the heart of Calico Ghost Town as he entered the park with his party. He was running in terror from one of my fellow monsters before stopping to catch his breath in front of the Livery Stable doubled over with his hands on his knees.
He shuddered with dread as I headed toward him and tried unsuccessfully to hide behind a tree in an outdoor dining area — a no-go area for Scary Farm monsters. I took a few steps back, leaned against a railing in front of the Overland Gunshop and fixed my gaze on Alberto as he stared back at me in terror through the tree branches — waiting for his worst fear to go away.
I wasn’t going anywhere. Alberto was an easy mark among the thousands roaming the park and I wasn’t about to miss this opportunity to give him what he came for — the fright of his life.
Alberto jumped a queue railing and leaped through a planter in front of the Fireman’s BBQ. He slowed his pace and breathed a sigh of relief — until he saw me coming again.
He ran for cover behind the calliope circus wagon next to the Bird Cage Theater.
“Please leave me alone,” Alberto begged.
Not tonight, I thought. My job is to never leave you alone. My job is to haunt your dreams.
By now, Alberto’s party had caught back up with him — laughing uproariously at his plight. Alberto spotted an opening and ran behind his girlfriend, grabbing both her shoulders and using her as a shameless shield.
I made a lunge for him and he took off running toward the Wilderness Dance Hall — just outside the range of Ghost Town monsters.
Alberto was free — for now, at least. Until he wandered across my path again in the fog of Calico Ghost Town at Knott’s Scary Farm.
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By now, I had been working as a Ghost Town monster on the streets of Calico for about 90 minutes and it was starting to get fun. I had worked up a sweat and gotten into my character.
My monster alter ego for the evening was a reporter for the Calico Gazette who had been covering the witch trial of Sarah Marshall when she transformed into the Green Witch and cursed the townspeople.
As a Calico Gazette reporter, I had a lot of questions about what happened during the trial and was determined to find the witch who had turned the good people of Calico into a ravenous band of monsters.
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My evening started at 5 p.m. before the sun went down and the fog filled Calico Ghost Town.
I changed into my costume that I had picked out during Scare School — cobweb-covered pants, ink-stained shirt and a ratty, old gold vest.
I climbed into the chair of makeup artist Zoie Roman who spent about 20 minutes turning my face from mild-mannered reporter into Ghost Town monster. A fine mist of makeup powder filled the air as a horde of monsters sat at 30 stations in the cavernous backstage costume and makeup warehouse.
The airbrush gun tickled my skin as Roman masterfully sprayed maroon and brown makeup on my temples, cheeks and chin. I shivered every time the cold blast raked across my nose or ears.
“I feel like I’m hurting you,” Roman said with a chuckle.
I looked in the mirror and was shocked by the masterpiece. I put on my crumpled cowboy hat with a “Press” card in the band and my look was complete. I couldn’t stop smiling. I was a Ghost Town monster.
Before the Ghost Town roll call meeting, my fellow monsters finished accessorizing their costumes and compared new weaponry they had acquired during the off season.
Ghost Town venue supervisor Kyle Brannon delivered the pre-game speech and instructed the 80-member crew to be ready and on the streets of Calico 10 minutes before the 7 p.m. opening. Brannon himself was prepared for the long night with a Red Bull in one hand and another in his pants pocket.
“I want them to hit a wall in Ghost Town that says we’re here to mean business,” Brannon said. “OK, let’s rock and roll.”
The Ghost Town monsters gathered round and put their hairy paws, clawed fingers and bedazzled hands into the middle of the huddle for a group cheer. It was time to get our haunt on.
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As a newbie, I started slow when the crowds pushed through Ghost Town— watching and learning from my fellow monsters.
I trailed behind a pair of girls clinging to each other in horror. When one of them looked over her left shoulder to see where I was, I switched to her right shoulder. When the other looked back, I switched sides again. I did that a dozen times, keeping their heads on a constant swivel.
“He’s still following us,” one of them said.
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I walked upstream attacking my prey head on — intentionally breaking up groups of four and five walking arm-in-arm. I quickly realized my distractions were setting up scares for my more experienced team members.
In the real world, I’d be a dangerously creepy stalker. On the Calico streets, I was getting very good at my job — even if I’d only been doing it for 30 minutes.
It was easy to spot the scaredy-cats — cowering, screaming, covering their eyes and ears, jumping at anything and everything. I stuck to them like glue.
The best scares involved the runners — those who took off the moment they saw me. I’d wait for them to slow down and relax before sliding up beside them. As soon as they saw me out of the corner of their eye they’d start running again.
“Why is he following me?” asked one runner of her running mate.
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One woman named Leo jumped out of her skin when I approached and climbed on top of her boyfriend like she was being treed by a bear. Every time she relaxed I showed up again. I felt bad for her boyfriend — who was doing his best to be supportive while laughing hysterically.
“Is he gone?” Leo asked.
“Yeah, he’s gone,” said the boyfriend.
But of course I wasn’t. I swept in for one more scare.
“He’s not gone!” screamed Leo, pounding on her co-conspirator boyfriend.
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Thalia was one of my favorite scares of the night along Kmart Street — the monster nickname for the pathway bathed in blue light that runs past the Calico Saloon.
Thalia ran in endless circles around her friends as she tried to evade my dogged reporter pursuit. I peppered her with questions about the witch trial. Was she there? What happened to Sarah Marshall? Where was the Green Witch now?
Thalia didn’t have any answers and begged me to stop. I became convinced she was Sarah Marshall — or worse yet the Green Witch. My unrelenting questioning provided cover for Ghost Town sliders to attack the group from all sides.
“No, no, no,” Thalia cried. “Please leave me alone.”
I didn’t stop my endless questioning of Thalia until I reached the Calico Railroad train tracks — another invisible line dividing Ghost Town from the rest of the park.
After an hour and a half, I decided I had more than enough for my story — even though I could have kept going until closing time.
I headed backstage to get my makeup removed and return my costume. Lindsay Lowe and Mar Sanchez worked together to strip off my monstrous alter ego and turn me back into a humble theme park reporter. The tag team makeup removal felt like a facial massage.
I rinsed off the stubborn remainders at the bathroom sink ¯ scrubbing hard to get the makeup out of my hairline and eyebrows. I looked in the mirror and realized I still had room for improvement in the monstering department. I had been smiling all night long.
Being a Ghost Town monster had been a dream come true. I’d had the time of my life becoming the recurring nightmare a few unlucky Scary Farmers will never forget.
