Halloween!

Mini Militant and Dad head out Trick or Treating. Our cute little fireman got plenty of delicious goodies.

Terror Behind the Walls at the Eastern State Penitentiary

Eastern State Penitentiary boasts one of the creepiest haunted attractions in all of America.

One of my favorite holidays is Halloween.

Just like my love of the Renaissance Faire is rooted in its subversive elements (booze, boobs and historical revisionism) I love Halloween because it's a celebration of the antithesis of good, Christian American values (booze, boobs and horror.) And, for one night a year, the entire nation revels in it.

An element of Halloween that never gets old is the all-American 'haunted house.' These range from spooky corn mazes to people's homes that get dolled up for All Hallow's Eve. The greatest haunted house in all of America, however, isn't even a house at all - it's a haunted prison located right in the heart of Philadelphia.

The Eastern State Penitentiary - closed in 1971, but still one of the city's most dramatic landmarks - opens its gates every October for a horrific grand guignol known as Terror Behind the Walls.

Last night, the Militant Ginger crew saddled up and headed to the former capital to experience the "Best Haunted Attraction" in America.

Back in 1827, when the massive prison was built, it was in the remote hills of Philadelphia's suburbs. Today it's in a hip and bustling portion of the city, just blocks from the Philadelphia Museum of Art. The first challenge is to find parking - which they provide two miles away at Philadelphia, and provide 'Ghost Buses' with tour guides to shuttle you to the prison gates.

Then, you join a line that would rival those of Disneyland. You have to buy tickets in advance for certain showings (we picked the 9pm) but don't foolishly imagine that that's the time you'll actually get through the doorway!

Once you've stepped through the gates of the hulking stone building, however, you'll realize the ticket fee was worth it. Even crowded alongside hundreds of other Halloween enthusiasts, it's impossible not to admit that the towering walls, looming guard towers and narrow windows convey a creepiness you don't often find in increasingly-identical strip-mall America.

While Terror Behind the Walls is described as the "Best Professional Haunted House" by HauntFreaks.com, it actually comprises five individual semi-permanent 'haunted houses' within the prison's walls.

The first, Intake, is based on the experience of being processed as a new inmate at the prison. Sweeping spotlights, barking dogs and brutal guards recreate the dehumanizing experience - with one of the highlights being a 'delousing' with a surprise blast from an air hose.

Lock Down recreates a prisoner breakout, leading through Cellblock 12 while escaped prisoners run amok around you. They're the least of your worries, though - the true terror comes from the brutal guards, desperately trying to restore order to the madhouse.

The Infirmary is the third section, and relies on more traditional horror staples for its chills. Taken on a tour of the prison infirmary, you'll discover some grisly medical horrors along the way.

Undoubtedly the boldest attraction was The Experiment. This is Terror Behind the Walls' signature vignette and once America's first 3D haunted house. You don a pair of 3D glasses and journey through a truly trippy maze of floating horrors and challenging perspectives. It really is breathtaking - one of the highlights of the event.

Finally, you make your way to the exit through Night Watch, which adds an interactive element by requiring your 'team leader' to light the way with a tiny LED torch.

Taking about 45 minutes from door to door, Terror Behind the Walls is fun, fast-paced and beautifully thought out. There are a lot of surprises along the way - mostly supplied by the enthusiastic costumed cast members - and a genuinely creepy vibe.

The downside is that the attraction is packed and it's difficult to truly revel in the ghoulish atmosphere when you're bustling shoulder-to-shoulder through the cell blocks.

No doubt they'll be running Terror Behind the Walls again next year. My recommendation? Go to one of the earlier weekend showings (Mummy Militant and crew tried the weekend before, but didn't know you had to buy tickets in advance.) Halloween Night is guaranteed to be packed.

Secondly, don't do what we did - and try to get clever about the parking. Parking at Philadelphia Zoo and a ride on the Ghost Bus costs $15. We tried to cheap out and get a parking spot near the Eastern State Penitentiary itself. This resulted in us trawling through the sidestreets off Girard Avenue for 45 minutes and being late for our allotted tour time.

To rub salt in our wounds, after all that time looking for parking, we ended up in the Philadelphia Zoo parking lot anyway!

Forewarned and forearmed, you're in for a ghoulish treat at Terror Behind the Walls. If you have an opportunity to go - don't miss out!

The Militant Ginger crew tackled Terror Behind the Walls in style!

Boo Boo makes a pumpkin that goes "Boo!"

When I was a kid, my mother used to carve us 'pumpkins' out of courgettes and squashes.

This year, we had a REAL pumpkin, with we got when Baby and I went Pumpkin Picking.

Of course, he's too small to have actually done the carving - but it was a joint project!

Two weeks until Halloween!

What is Halloween?

Over in America, Halloween is an incredibly popular holiday.

On the 31st October, the entire nation is caught up in the excitement of costumes, candy and commercialism.

All Hallows Eve is a wonderful excuse to dress up and unleash your inner monster - or just curl up on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn and some scary movies.

One of my colleagues asked me if we celebrate Halloween in Europe. We do, certainly - but not on nearly the same scale as it's done in America.

Which is funny, since research suggests that Halloween originated in Europe - Ireland, specifically. Before Christianity arrived on the shores of Eire, the autumn festival of Oiche Shamha celebrated the end of summer and communities would burn large communal bonfires to ward off the spirits of the dead, who were traditionally most able to commune with the living at the height of Autumn.

Like many pagan festivals, they were adopted and adapted by the Christian church and Oiche Shama or Samhain became All Hallows Eve.

The popularity of Halloween in America probably has much to do with the enormous numbers of Irish immigrants who travelled to the New World in the nineteenth century. Certainly, the major traditions of Halloween, like dressing is costume and carving 'Jack of Lanterns' from pumpkins or turnips, are Irish in origin and still practised there.

It wasn't until the 20th century that Halloween became so universal and commercialised. Before then it was often seen as an Irish or Celtic festival, much like Columbus Day is for Italian Americans.

However in 1905, ghoulish Halloween postcards became available and spread knowledge of the festival across the United States. The tone of the holiday struck the fancy of the American nation and in very short order, the manufacture of Halloween decorations and costumes became a widespread and profitable business.

These days, Halloween is enormous, with a reported 93 percent of American children going out 'trick or treating' on the 31st October. Most people secretly admit it's their favourite holiday and many parents take the day off work to enjoy the festivities with their kids.

Although rather morbid in nature, the spirit of Halloween is infectious and I have to admit that I've really enjoyed my first ever American 'All Hallows Eve.'

For adults, I think part of the fun is choosing a costume that reflects who you really see yourself as deep inside. For ladies, it's often a sultry vampire or other creature that better reflects the seductress within (who they are only brave enough to unleash on Halloween.) For men, it's often fearsome serial killers and mad scientists from movies and TV, who represent freedom from the inhibitions of polite society.

And for me? Well, I wore my kilt to work, which wasn't really a costume at all.

But in the end I decided to go as V from the comic book and movie V for Vendetta. I certainly don't see myself as an anarchist, but there was something about the suave, charming, ruthless and romantic freedom fighter that appealed to the Saint-like buccaneer buried deep within.

What does you Halloween costume say about you?

Happy Halloween!

Four and a half HOURS of TERROR!

Halloween approaches... So yesterday, Tina and I teamed up with friends Armstrong and Shakira and we dared to brave the terrifying Field of Terror!

Halloween is one of the most popular American holidays. It's the excuse to dress up as whatever you want (for most American teenage girls, this inexplicably winds up as Bunny Girls, Wenches, Hookers or Naughty Nurses) and wallow in all the horror, gore, cheap scares and wicked thrills your favourite Hollywood horror flicks can provide.

Around New Jersey, many local farms organise 'Haunted Attractions' for brave punters to visit. These involve hayrides (the curiously American tradition of bumping around in the back of a tractor trailer) through 'haunted woods' - where you encounter gory set-pieces and horrifying monsters jump out at you from the shadows.

There are also 'corn mazes,' which are winding paths cut through the eight feet tall corn fields, leading to spooky scenes of graphic ghoulishness.

Field of Terror, in East Windsor, promised both, so braving the darkness and my inadequate navigation, we set off in Shahkira's truck and signed up for the spookfest.

It was a lot of fun. This sort of thing just doesn't seem to exist in England and that's a real pity. Halloween is such a deliciously indulgent occasion and these haunted attractions are a wonderful expression of it!

At Fields of Terror, you first queued. You queued in Disneyesque fashion. We arrived at 8pm and didn't board the Hayride until 9:30pm. But by then we were all riled up and looking forward to the adventure. Random attacks by famous faces (like Halloween's Michael Myers) kept our adrenaline pumping.


There was even a boiled-encrusted mutant, begging likely types to 'pet' his disgusting radioactive baby. His name, judging by the cries of the other cast members, was Pet My Baby.

On the hayride, about thirty of us clambered into the back of an old tractor trailer piled with hay bales. Then we trundled off into the woods...

Through the darkness we travelled for about five minutes, until we rounded a corner and came across a broken down caravan slewed across the road, flanked by rusty patio furniture and rickety outhouses. Scrawled in red across the caravan were the words: "Trailer Park from Hell!"

Just as we'd taken in this scene, the outhouse door burst open and a redneck in a singlet came rushing out at us, wielding an exhaust-spewing chainsaw.

Cue screams and panic from the trailer.

Dodging the whirring chainsaw, the tractor hauled us to apparent safety, back into the dark and dingy woods.

Next we passed through a rickety gateway, constructed from scrap wood and poles. A pig's head peered sightlessly down at us from the tallest pole, reminding me inexplicably of having to read Lord of the Flies when I was in primary school.

As we took this all in, more screams erupted. Jumping out of the bushes were a couple of furry werewolves, who leapt onto the sides of the trailers and immediately started harassing the nearest pretty girls (Tina found herself being snuffled by a particularly amorous lycanthrope.)

From the trees, spotlights lit up a rock, swinging down at us, about to crush the trailer. Just a few feet before it hit, however, a secondary rope pulled the rock away and spared us from obliteration (or, at the very least, a long walk back to the car park.)

Off we rumbled, back into the darkness.

We then passed what looked like an abandoned shack, right in the middle of the woods. Spotlights lit up a pretty teenage girl, strapped to a chair while a masked madman closed in on her with a whirring drill and rusty blades. She begged for rescue while we trundled past, until the rumbling diesel engine drowned out her pleas.

Then, rounding the corner, our tractor left the woods and we passed beneath a sign, welcoming us to Man Slaughter Village (Population: All Dead)

We trundled through an eerie graveyard, peering expectantly at the crosses sticking out of the ground. The open graves and coffins failed to spew forth any scary bad guys, which lulled us into a false sense of security.

False, because the tractor then took us through a scrapyard, filled with rusty old cars and an abandoned fire truck, it's lights blinking mournfully into the darkness. From the shadows, a fireman came staggering towards us, pleading for help - only to be axed to the ground by a madman chasing him.

Leaving him to his fate, we wheeled off around the corner and back to the apparent safety of the car park.

Once we'd unloaded, leaving the trailer ready for another load of unsuspecting victims, we queued up to enter the five acre corn maze.

This line moved pretty quickly. Soon we were passing through a ghoulish gateway and making our winding way through eight feet tall stalks of corn.

It was dark and disorientating. Soon we'd lost all sense of direction, only being vaguely aware of the sound of a generator popping in one direction and somebody screaming in the other.

To enter the maze proper, we had to pass through 'The Big Squeeze.' An enormous black orifice, it squeezed us tightly and we had to force our way blindly through, until it spat us out back in the middle of the cornfield, totally turned around from where we'd originally thought we were.

There was nothing to do but trudge onwards. Not so easy when the stalks of corn would suddenly rustle and out would leap an axe wielding bad guy. Tina, being small and busty and cute and 'screamy', was a natural target for these attackers. One of them - a small pig-faced monster - revealed her mistake.

"You're mine now!" He hissed. "You made eye contact!"

Struggling through the maze, we eventually made it to an abandoned school-bus, where Freddy Krueger welcomed us on board with his fistful of knives...

"Just an inch or two off the back," Tina quipped.

Through the blood soaked bus we went, until we found ourselves in a wrecked children's playground, set upon by fiendish looking (and slightly disinterested) killer clowns.

The maze seemed to go on forever, interspersed by wonderful conceptual set-pieces. For example, we stumbled across a bizarre collection of gigantic painted eggs.

"What the hell is this?" Tina demanded. "Did they just leave these over from this year's Easter Egg Hunt?"

But no! Out of the bushes leapt a ravenous, blood soaked Easter Bunny, obviously driven psychopathic by the fiendish children scoffing his eggs earlier that year.

I can't remember everything that we experienced in the maze - only that it was a lot of fun and pretty creepy. When we finally got to the end, though, we discovered the real American 'horror' mentality. This is why they always die in the horror movies!

We arrived in a clearing miles from the car park. A single guy, out of costume and character, told us to wait for a tractor and trailer to cart us back to our cars.

So we waited. And waited.

Eventually, a bunch of the crowd started to get irritated.

"Screw this!" Somebody yelled. "We'll walk back!"

"No!" The guide yelled. "Don't take the path back! The tractor doesn't have lights. He could run you over!"

"SCREW YOU!" the leader of the rebels spat back. "We ain't waiting!"

So off he and about thirty of his followers trudged, into the darkness towards the sound of the humming generators.

I stood there, stunned.

In England, nobody would even have thought of questioning the guide's authority. We'd have neatly arranged ourselves into a line and waited. That's the indomitable spirit that forged (and lost) the British Empire.

What stunned me more, however, was the number of people following the loud-mouthed cretin.

The teenage girls and giggly boys had screamed and squirmed their way through a spooky maze making appropriate 'terrified' responses at all the fake dangers... But when faced with a REAL danger - like a speeding tractor crushing them beneath it's wheels - they all teamed up and set off blithely like the 'screaming Americans' we arrogant Europeans always make fun of in the disaster movies.

If this was a disaster movie (or even just a horror movie) they'd all have got horribly mangled by a rogue combine harvester or something - and the audience would have laughed.

But this wasn't a horror movie. It was real life. They were facing real danger, heading off into the darkness. We should have yelled at them to stop and turn back...

But by the time the rebellion had assembled itself, there were only a few of us left standing waiting for the tractor... So we decided to join them like good little horror movie victims.

The End.

Epilogue:

We made it back safe and sound (needless to say.) On our journey back, we were even passed by the speeding demon tractor - which had stopped on it's journey to pick up the first lot of rebellious Americans stoically trudging back towards the car park.

Thinking they were going to be carted the rest of the way in hayride luxury, they clambered on board the tractor and rumbled past us, peering down at us pedestrians with a look of smug superiority.

Except they were heading AWAY from the car park.

Into the darkness.

Towards the sound of all the screaming.

Watching them go, I idly wondered if the Field of Terror had a terrifying fate planned for these dissident customers...



Field of Terror is in East Windsor, NJ - and is still open until 11pm next weekend.

Changing Seasons

"Autumn is a second spring, in which every leaf becomes a flower." Albert Camus.

Where does the time go?

In a little over a week, it will be four months since Tina and I first touched base in the United States. We're installed now, more or less. We've got cars and New Jersey driver's licences and I'm even lucky enough to have a great job.

It just doesn't feel like we're installed, though. We're still talking about how we've got to sit tight until the money's started coming in (although, to be fair, it's only my second payday on Friday) and we're holding off on all the 'things' we thought we wanted.

Funny how four months without one makes you realise that a personal micro-brewery is more a luxury than a necessity!

For all of America still feeling fresh and new, however, it's impossible to ignore the passing time. Despite long, hot days that are still in the low eighties, summer has slipped silently away and a beautiful New England fall is on the horizon.

Fall is what the Americans call autumn - and there's nowhere better to enjoy it than in the North Eastern United States. The beautiful oak trees turn all sorts of glorious colours and the weather is both bright and crisp at the same time. Throw into that Halloween and Thanksgiving - two of the most wonderful holidays in existence - and 'fall' even beats the long, hot, glorious summer we've just enjoyed. I can hardly wait.

We're already planning what to do for Halloween. There's the Field of Screams which looks like it's worth a road trip. Tina is also keen on going to the Eastern State Penitentiary which looks thrilling.

I have never had a Halloween in America. It'll be wonderful.

But fall brings not just a new wave of adventures and exploration. It's also the chance for Tina and I to get our feet under the table and really start to settle down in America. We're no longer 'fresh off the boat.' We're tax-paying, bill-paying, hard-working residents now and it's time to quit blinking in astonishment and start planning what the next stage will be.

What do we want? How will we achieve it?

Unlike England, America fills you with ambition and confidence. Once you've decided what it is you want, the American dream demands that you go out and achieve it - bugger the obstacles standing in your path.

Thanksgiving is two months away. I already have so much to be thankful for (not least of which, it will be my forth wedding anniversary.) In the lead up to that great event, however, what's to stop me working to achieve a few more things I can be further thankful for?

"There are some people who live in a dream world, and there are some who face reality; and then there are those who turn one into the other." Douglas Everett.