Sarah, Julie, and the fire

I should jump at the chance of a corn maze on one of the first nights of November, before the weather turns intolerable to ever want to be outside after dark. I had a fine excuse if I didn't go: I had twisted my ankle and had incurred tendinitis days before. Sarah T understood that maybe I would bail. There was half a chance she would buy that it was more to do with my foot and not my nascent homebodiness.

Bereft Amber for the weekend, and understanding how maladaptive it would be to stay home and pout, I said I would be coming. It was an hour away, but an easy one. I could listen to spooky podcasts or belt out music for which I do not have close to the pipes.

Sarah assumed I would be carpooling with them. I didn't see why, as that would be out of the way and would require them waiting for me -- the man who had already filled his MP3 player with murder and musicals -- but she insisted this was a better thing. I did not know who "them" was, aside from Chris, and I felt more reluctant to inconvenience strangers.

She pressed again and I agreed, if only because it would knock twenty minutes off my drive.

When I arrive, Sarah introduced me to Them: The Boy Scout, the Librarian, and the Actress. They give their actual names, but, as I cheerfully tell Sarah the moment I leave her apartment, I had forgotten these. The Boy Scout is Nick (whom I met before at a hibachi party, but he was on the other side of the grill and so might as well have been at another party). The Librarian is Julie, whose name sounded like exotic syllables when first I heard it. The Actress is Amanda, which I find easier to remember now since it is an alliterative appellation.

I was not clear on the point of this corn maze in Montgomery. When first Sarah proposed the plan, it was a different maze that offered Halloween-themed adventure involving alcoholic prizes and zombies. This one, from what I can tell, offers that it has a path through some corn and please give them $12 to traverse it. In daylight, this would be silly. At night, there is something more daring to it, though one could walk between the corn straight, ignoring the paths. When we paid our admission, the clerk offered us a paper map and told us that we could download an app onto our phones that we could be better directed (as well as having the opportunity to answer Bible trivia at designated signposts). This was for quitters. Isn't the point of this to stumble about? I didn't pay this money to have the whole affair done straight in a matter of minutes.

An hour into the journey, we decide that we have not seen all the signposts and we ought to. One of our party brings out the map, which makes clear that some of the paths meant to be dead ends. Previous explorers had disagreed with being trapped and stomped through the corn, creating wide shortcuts.

I feel a pang here because I don't like doing things without Amber. This would have been a fun experience for us to share and we never will. (The maze was not worth repeating without the threat of kids dressed as monsters or the promise of a prize.) The air is cold enough to hold my breath. I stuff my gloved hands in my pockets to keep their circulation. My petite bride would have been shivering. Also, though I was able to guilt/rouse myself into being social, Amber would have declined to overturn her introversion to for the cold.

For God so loved his son that he build a Ninja Warrior ramp to Heaven

After the maze was an American Ninja Warrior course of which Nick the Boy Scout makes short work, leaping and climbing. It is too cold for me even to remove my gloves, but good for him. The vertical end to it is painted with Christian sayings.

The others gather around a small bonfire to the side of the barn. I use this as an excuse to call Amber. She is having an okay time in Maryland at her dental training. She scrubbed the teeth of the disembodied head of a dog and of a cat, which was sad but also much easier than doing so for a living animal she might hurt. I look at my calendar and note that the next time both of us have a whole day together is two weeks from now. She is quiet a moment, contemplating I know not what in specific, but something. Maybe that she is too busy for her own sake or that this week is far too long already.

Chris chooses to leave on his own, so Sarah and I must go beg a ride from the others. On the way back, we tell jokes. After a few, Nick asks if we want to hear more and suggests that we put it to a vote. I say, "You are driving, so this is a dictatorship, not a democracy."

He tells more jokes.

It was a good night.

last watched: Schitt's Creek
reading: Ella Enchanted