Scared sober at New York City’s Blood Manor.
Samantha’s grip on my arm tightened as she pressed herself up behind me. We stood frozen—unable to speak—as the blood-drenched butcher slowly inched toward us and lifted his chainsaw. I snapped out of my stoned paralysis, grabbed my date and turned to run, but it was no use—we were surrounded. To the left, a demonic doctor aimed his sinister syringe at us. To the right, a pasty, pale cadaver staggered toward us with murder on his mind. As they closed in, a vampiric vixen swooped down upon us from out of nowhere, transfixed us with her hypnotic gaze, and spoke:
“More wine, Mr. Black?”
“Sure,” I said, handing her my empty glass. “How about you, Sam?”
“Nah, I’m pretty high. Let’s go sit down.”
“Excuse us, fellas,” I said as we brushed past the butcher, doctor and reanimated corpse and headed over to one of the red velvet couches in the center of the club.
So where exactly was this place that we were sipping cocktails with the undead, you may ask? Why, at a private press preview of Blood Manor —New York’s premier haunted haven, located just above the club Home (where the reception was being held).
First brought to life in 2005 by partners Jim Faro and Mike Rodriguez, Blood Manor operates for the entire month of October and attracts monstrous crowds, including celebrities like Fran Drescher and Missy Elliott. The Manor is a horror fan’s wet dream—a maddening maze of the macabre featuring 20 rooms filled with more animatronics, sound effects, props and costumed characters than you can shake a meat cleaver at. One such character was a ravenous Raggedy Ann in fishnets, played by a friend of ours named Satu. We spied each other across the room, and Satu slinked across the floor to us. Being obliged to stay in character, she couldn’t really converse, so instead she molested us with extra zeal.
