If you're planning to attend the Blackout Haunted House this year, you might want to STOP READING NOW, because I'm about to tell you all about it (or at least as much as I know). That means this article is going to contain a MASSIVE AMOUNT OF SPOILERS.

Now, with that out of the way, here are seven insane things I saw at the Blackout Haunted House in Los Angeles ...

Upon completion of the interrogation, I was pushed through a sheet of plastic and into a hallway, where I was asked if I could see the white line on the ground and told that I should follow it. Of course, I could not see any white line, because a flashlight had been blasting my retinas for the past 45 seconds.

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That was the point, though. I was supposed to wander around confused for a second, because that would make the moment when someone ran up from behind, grabbed me and told me not to move that much more startling. That happened, and it definitely should have scared me more than it did. I think I'd just read too much about this place and was ready for whatever they had for me. A combination of that and my standard mental fitness regimen meant that, on this night at least, I was hard to scare. I imagine it's not like that for everyone. Especially not during the insanity that comes next.

Basically, while you stand there in the dark, still kind of disoriented from the flashlight and being bear-hugged from behind and strong-armed into position, someone you never see walks around the room, occasionally pausing to stroke your face or jab at your neck with a hand in strangle formation or the point of something sharp. You never see any of this coming. It just happens. In the dark. It goes on for so long that some people report feeling as if maybe the staff forgot they were there. Soren would later comment that this was the scariest part of the entire adventure for him. Mine was still a few rooms away.

But first, that same unseen force that was doing all the whispering and hugging and stroking grabs you one final time and tells you to run. And that's when you meet ...

The scary lady's work wasn't done, though. After sitting down, she made me taste what she was whipping up in that pail. It tasted like nothing, but was still somehow completely gross. And that's when she took my shoe. And my sock. And then looked on in horror as another woman entered the room, removed my belt and led me to another room that, awesomely, featured a floor littered with condoms. I knew that because I was barefoot, you see. But just on the one foot, which is good, because it would have been super weird otherwise. What happened next could best be described as an over the clothes rape. The woman who led me into the room was shirtless and grinding on me and ... that's when my job ruined everything.

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See, one of my professional responsibilities is to notice those little plot holes and inconsistencies that most people don't in movies and TV shows. Sometimes that extends into my daily life as well. So, in the midst of what should have been one of the biggest mind fucks of my life, all I could think was "Man, this chick smells wonderful!" Because she did, and that seemed dumb to me. "A real zombie or whatever the hell she's supposed to be would fucking stink. This is bullshit." That's what goes through the mind of an Internet comedy professional who's just made the transition from being repeatedly punched in the dark to having boobs thrust in his face. You'd think I'd just be grateful. But still, she smelled like grape candy. It was awfully hard to be terrified of that.

I'm pretty sure my purist approach to haunted houses negated the entire point of this room, which was to add some sexual arousal to the overwhelming terror that the entry provides. But for me, the only thing scary about this particular section of the Blackout Haunted House is knowing that this room most likely serves its exact intended purpose on most people. Why is that terrifying? Because it means that I'm the weirdo for not getting a boner in a haunted house.

At one point, I contemplated using the safe word, because breathing conditions inside that bag had become so treacherous. That's when I suddenly remembered that I have a tongue and plastic bags are super light and easy to move. So, using my tongue, I moved the plastic bag up just above my mouth. I used the newly free hole to take in lots of delicious air before anyone had a chance to stick a dick in it or whatever. After that, I kept my head down and waited, leaving the person in charge of this room to marvel at my superhuman lung capacity in awed silence.

They didn't do that. Instead, they made me crawl to another part of the room and sit there on all fours for a few more minutes. It was during this time that something most curious happened. From another room, I could hear the sounds of a man being told to scream. That man, in turn, was screaming. I don't know what room this was in, nor do I know what was being done to make this man scream. Apparently, there are parts of the Blackout Haunted House that I was not shown.

That's fine, though, because what I did see next was plenty disturbing in its own right.

"The Rapist" is probably a misleading name for this guy. He was actually just a dude forcing some woman to have sex with him against her will. That's what you see when you walk in. There is literally a guy having sex (possibly simulated) with a woman who is chained to the bed. He's naked. For real naked. You realize this when he comes running toward you with his penis flopping to and fro. If you're a guy who's been reading to this point and fantasizing about all of the women you'll be in physical contact with when you check in to the Blackout Haunted House for yourself, I should probably let you know that you're going to be touching some dudes, too. This particular dude grabs you and makes you sit against a wall while he heads back over to do some more raping.

Oh, and this time the floor is riddled with condoms and shoes. Could your shoe be one of them? Should you take a look around or keep your eyes on the nightmare unfolding on the bed? The rapist, unhelpfully, does not tell you. So you're left to kind of wonder about that while he pounds away at the woman chained to the bed, glancing over his shoulder occasionally to make sure you're watching (you are).

Eventually, you're forced to lie on the bed as well. A lot happens in that bed, and none of it is good. The woman, up to this point, has not made a sound. That all changes. Also, the rapist touches your foot at some point. Creepy, sure, but if you've ever seen my feet, you know that he was the one suffering at that moment.

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Obviously, this room is going to be uncomfortable for the ladies. For guys, I'm guessing it's more of an inner monologue that centers around one main question: Am I the type of guy who gets excited by the thought of rape?

Fantastic news, I am not. So, this room didn't hold much for me in the way of scares. Also, once again, from the crazy rapist to the woman chained to the bed, everyone in question was super clean and smelled fresh. Maybe that's intentional. I don't know. But it definitely took something away from the experience for me.

Things were about to turn around, though, because what was coming next might have been the creepiest bit of the whole night.

I almost regret that I wasn't more frightened by all of this, because some of the displays in the Blackout Haunted House are insanely well-done and should rightfully scare the life out of anyone. What happens after you meet the rapist is a great example of that.

That rape scene feels like a show closer. It's the kind of image that you can absolutely imagine would be the last thing you'd see as part of a spectacle like this. So when it's over and you're calmly told to wait in a well-lit hallway underneath an exit sign by a man who assures you he'll be back in one second, the natural inclination is to think that you've reached the end of your journey. Surely that staple gun sitting on the floor between you and the exit is a non-issue. Just construction materials left there by some inattentive laborer earlier in the day. Right? Right?!?!?!

Wrong. After a few seconds of standing there, a person who may or may not be the same man who asked you to wait (Soren says it's not, I say it is) comes in through a different entrance. He's dressed like an usher at a movie theater. He looks like an employee. Skinny, balding, wearing glasses, mid-to-late 40s ... and he won't stop staring at you. It soon becomes evident that he is not here to lead you back out into the relative safety of downtown Los Angeles.

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You realize this when he picks up that staple gun and starts caressing it. He goes through all of the expected motions that would indicate you're about to be shot with a stapler and then does something unexpected. He puts the stapler in your hand, presses his hand against the business area and tells you to squeeze.

Is this something that people have to be talked into? I'm not sure. Is the fear that this place brings on so paralyzing that some people have to be convinced to squeeze the trigger on this very obviously unloaded staple gun (R.I.P. Brandon Lee)? I'm sure that's often the case. As for me, I don't think he even got all of the word "squeeze" out before I let one rip.

At some point during this exchange, the crazy usher takes the staple gun back from you and starts screaming in pain and anger. He then pretends to staple you repeatedly in the chest while pushing you out of the room and into ...

Fine, that's just my name for it. And you're actually just pushed out into another hallway. There's a bathroom door in front of you. Also in front of you ... the rapist. He's back, and he wants you to go to the bathroom with him. You do, of course, and he proceeds to head into a bathroom stall and vomit. Can you guess where this is headed?

If your guess was "into a bathroom stall to retrieve a set of keys from a vomit-filled toilet bowl," then your guess was 100 percent correct and disturbingly specific. Well done.

No matter how calm you are, reaching into that toilet is bad times. Whatever is in there definitely looks like vomit. The texture is more like coffee grounds and, well, vomit. It just feels gross, but thankfully, the keys are easy to find. For some reason, Soren was treated to the additional step of being forced to rinse the keys off in a urinal before moving on. I was lucky and just got to carry mine while they were dripping with pretend vomit the whole time.

Anyway, during this whole ordeal, the rapist is babbling nonsense about how you need to save someone. He escorts you out of the room and into another. And that's where you win the perversion lottery.

So now you've got a set of keys. What the hell is that all about? A completely naked and screaming woman chained to the floor is what that's about. I think there were more shoes, too. It's literally just now dawning on me that I was probably supposed to be looking for my shoe during all of this. It probably would have added to the drama. The line of shoes that greeted me when I finally got out tell me that I wasn't the only one who didn't bother. Motherfuckers aren't keeping our shoes. We'd Judge Judy the shit out of that place. I was nervous about a lot of things in there; having my personal belongings commandeered was not one of them.

And this is exactly what I'm talking about. I've just told you that a completely naked woman is chained to the floor and then spent the next hundred words or so picking apart the terror planning at this haunted house. Jaded Internet writers, man.

Anyway, yeah, there's a woman chained to the floor. Seems like a good place to try out those keys. The first key I tried was too big for the lock. The woman is screaming the entire time about how "He's coming back!" and then suggests that I look for a different key. I take this to mean that there are more keys scattered around the room because, man, that would have been pretty nerve-wracking, right? So I dropped the set of keys I was holding and started to feel around for more keys. That's when the harsh reality that I was basically on a porn set came crashing back down on me as the "kidnapping victim" chained to the ground stopped my search before it could even begin by screaming "The other key would have to be on the same ring!"

Oh, word? Did the man who chained you to the floor tell you that?

Again, the burden of superhero-like observational skills wins the day. I doubt that this nit-picky shit matters to your average well-terrified patron. It's just my nature to complain, even when I'm being treated to the equivalent of a horror movie couch dance.

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So about that. After you unchain the woman, she grabs your hand and you run around like beheaded chickens looking for an exit. It's at this point in the story that I've gotten the same question from a few different sources. When I saw that there was a naked woman there, did I stop for a bit and take in the scenery? When we were running for an exit, did I make sure to get a good look at her ass? Was it hard to run with a throbbing erection?

Surprisingly, the answer is no. If there's a single person I remember the least from that whole ordeal, it's Princess Peach at the end. Don't get me wrong, I'm not some kind of weirdo who doesn't enjoy looking at beautiful women. I just enjoy not having people shrieking in my ear even more. Call those priorities out of line all you want, but I'll take "her shutting up about some guy who's coming back" over "getting a glance at her vag" any day.

After running around for a bit, you finally come face-to-face with the same jerkstore who walked you into the place, this time asking if you "touched that chick" and saying that "you're a part of this now." It felt unbelievably corny. Soren thinks they were trying to make it seem like you had maybe broken the rules and possibly the law by touching that woman on the way out. Or something like that? I dunno, but I looked like this when I walked out.

While I didn't find the Blackout Haunted House all that terrifying, I can absolutely see how it would freak a person out. Thankfully, I'm not that person.

Adam hosts a podcast called Unpopular Opinion that you should check out right here. You should also be his friend on Twitter, Facebook and Tumblr.

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