An A-Mazing Experience in the Pun Capital of Alberta
If you’re looking for something a little off-beet and very corny (as in, nothing to do with beets, lots to do with corn) then pop into the a-maize-ing Lacombe Corn Maze (three miles west of Lacombe, just off of Highway 2), a site that gets my vote as the pun of capital of Alberta.
This wacky attraction invites folks to “Get Lost!”… inside a giant human maze cut through a field of corn. Yes, you’ll feel just like Kevin Costner in Field of Dreams as you heed the whispering voices beckoning you deeper and deeper inside the bowels of the cornfield maze (only to discover that the whispering voices are coming from a Saskatchewan couple who disappeared three years ago when the husband refused to ask for directions out of the maze).
Before succumbing to the whispering voices, I perused the guest book at the ticket booth, hoping to find some clues on how to survive the experience. Instead, I discovered that the real purpose of the maze, besides offering up a much-needed diversion along Highway 2, was to provide an outlet for frustrated punsters from around the world. Entry upon entry from folks as far a field (get it, as far a field!) as Australia, England and Mexico revealed their inexplicable need to pun…
“an a-mazing experience”
“the corniest thing I’ve ever seen”
“corn-some!”
“cornfusing!”
“I got stalked inside the maize”
“be careful what you say because there’s a lot of ears out there…”
“a corny time was had by all”
Victor Hugo once mused, “The pun is the guano of the winged mind,” a comment he obviously made after visiting the Lacombe cornfield maze. One person, demonstrating a completely guano-filled mind, even signed the guest book after the legendary baseball figure Ty Cobb (get it? ‘Cause corn comes in cobs too!!). About the only signature that didn’t include a pun was the eloquent entry which simply read: “My brother smells.”
Trying to shake the pundits’ comments from my head, I paid my ad-missing fee and bravely entered the maize. Brave not because of any concern about ending up hopelessly corn-ered inside the maze, but because of my unnatural fear of corn, which stems from dreams about being stalked by the Jolly Green Giant’s sidekick, the Little Green Sprout. (And by the way, as all punsters must so painfully point out: did you get all my puns? Pundits? Ad-missing? Maize? Corn-ered? Stem? Stalked? I’m like some sort of punning savant!)
The welcoming folks who own the maze told me that it takes most normal people about 45 minutes to an hour to successfully navigate though the largest phase of the maze, which includes a total of about 7.2 km/4.5 miles of trails. But did I mention yet that I’m not normal? And being not normal, I confidently told the five year-old standing next to me that I would see him back at the starting point in about ten minutes. You see, owing to my incredible bat-like sense of direction, my extensive experience navigating the plus-15’s in downtown Calgary, and, most importantly of all, the absence of my wife on this outing, I entered the maze with all the corn-fidence (I’m sorry, it’s like an infectious disease) of a prize-winning homing pigeon on steroids.
An hour and a half later, my confidence began to ebb. You see, the whole navigating the maze thing seems simple enough on the surface, after all, if gerbils can do it, I said to myself, surely to goodness a reasonably intelligent and devilishly handsome individual like myself can jog around this human rat race in no time at all. But soon, as I wandered deeper into the jungle of corn, turning and twisting and circling left and right and then right and then left, I began longing for a pair of whiskers, or at the very least, a nice chunk of cheese to lead me on.
The maze didn’t offer up any cheese, it did however, offer trivia questions at important junctions. If you knew the correct answer to assorted pop culture stumpers such as “What is Homer Simpson’s wife’s maiden name?” or “When did Minnie enter Mickey’s life?,” the answer key let you know whether you should turn right, turn left, go straight ahead or just lie on the ground and sob like a baby. (I must say, I did notice that combining a directional challenge with trivia questions proved to be an especially fun bonding experience for the married couples). Since I knew the answers to, well, none of the questions, the trivia guide served only as a useful distraction from worrying about spending my golden years amongst a field of golden ears.
I struck off towards a bridge, from which one could get an expansive view of the entire maze. This unfortunately only served to offer me definitive proof that I was completely and utterly lost, that I had seemingly entered the pages of a Stephen King novel, that I needed my mommy. Alas, I finally appreciated the severity of my situation when I ran into some of the cast members of Survivor.
Of course, asking people for help, besides being embarrassing, was completely useless, because you soon realize that most people are directionally challenged, for example, the couple that I met that were looking for washrooms in the West Edmonton Mall, or the man from California making his way to Cleveland. Still, every time I encountered someone, I couldn’t help but do what they in turn were obviously doing to me: slowly size them up and down and try and assess whether they are stupider than you. And upon sizing them up and down, I concluded most people were indeed stupider than me (no offense, most people), which meant that in all likelihood I would be celebrating my next birthday with a nice dinner of corn.
A small plane circled overhead, apparently appreciating the giant design the maze cuts through the corn (this year’s theme, much to the punsters delight, was a giant Canadian loony). Hoping to get the pilot’s attention, I jumped up and down, waving my arms like a goose in heat, or, I suppose, like a loon inside a loon, which only served to make that same five-year old kid I met at the entrance hightail it back to his parents.
Having failed to attract the plane’s attention, I decided to have some fun with the whole experience by hiding in the corn and scaring small children with rustling noises and the occasional demonic growl. Because really, what’s more fun that torturing small children? And my gosh, they were so right when they said this could be a fun experience for the whole family!
But when I started hearing the theme song from Deliverance, I knew it was time to get out of the corn, and fast. Relying on my keen sense of smell, I boldly struck off in a northeastern direction (like I knew which direction was northeast), and within only twenty minutes, managed to return to the very same spot I had just left. Forgoing my keen sense of smell, I decided to move onward making my directional choices based on the flip of a coin, which led me out of the maze in less than three minutes.
The five-year old boy was waiting for me at the entrance, obviously wanting to gloat. I informed the wee lad that because I was doing research for a book project, I had chosen to walk every inch of the maze.
He didn’t seem to buy this argument either.
Excerpted from What’s So Funny About Alberta? by Michael Kerr. Surf Michael up at mikekerr.com, or for more information on the book cruise by funnyalberta.com
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Jumping Pillow!
The first ever and only jumping pillow in Canada! Come out to the maze to jump and play! Bigger than most houses, the Jumping Pillow is safe, enjoyable, and hours of fun!