A-maize-ing

"I want to go to a corn maze this year," I told Paul one morning.

I got the "WTH?" look. It might have been because he'd only had one cup of tea so far. It takes about 3 to extract him from the clutches of slumber. But I interpreted it as, "What the hell is a corn maze? I've never been to one. It sounds gay," and vowed to drag him to one before the month was over. I convinced him it was cool by telling him they'd mowed it in the shape of Stewie and Brian from Family Guy.



So we went. It wasn't a huge maze, but we managed to get lost anyway. I kept stopping to answer the dumb trivia questions posted strategically around the maze. They were supposed to help you decide which way to go. They were all about corn and therefore none of my answers were more than uneducated guesses, but I still insisted on trying. Paul was ready to feed me to a carnivorous scarecrow by the third question. Tee hee!

After walking around in circles a few times, we realized that we could devise a plan of action by solving the maze on the aerial picture they'd given us when we got there. Except our plan backfired, we eventually got sick of wandering, and finally we gave up and crashed through a row of corn that, wouldn't you know it, took us right to the exit.

Win! Shut up, it was totally legit!