Crisp autumn air met my face as I stepped out of the car in the rural countryside. Not a bad day to traverse a corn maze, more affectionately known as a “maize maze”. The website had claimed the maze would be closed for an hour in between the afternoon session of farm activities and the evening moonlit maze, but dozens of flags meandered through above the stalks in the distance. I made a mental note never to trust a farm’s website again. A couple of goats roamed around a two-story complex as children fed the beasts from below by conveyor-belts. What a place indeed! Families, tired of walking the maze, awaited the departure of a hayride, but I was without children and just wanted to get lost in the labyrinth.

My group cautiously approached the entrance to the maze only to be told by the teenage girl who manned the area (and wore funny boots) that we must wait for more people before she could give her pre-maze instructions. I would have to wait to harass the maze maven (an employee who sits in a tower connected by plastic pipe and answers questions from those lost in the maze). In the meantime, my group examined some of the speed records for the maze – the shortest: a blazing fifteen minutes; the longest: a dreadful four hours. We had five hours until the maze closed. Great. Soon, two women and two boys showed up and the teenage girl ushered us into the foyer of the maze. In a monotone monologue with minimal eye contact and ending with a less-than-spirited “yay”, we were told to stay on the path and to keep our clothes on (well, maybe not the last part). Fitness was the theme of the maze, and from above, contained various athletic figures. However, before my group could choose a team name, the girl had already time-stamped our map. We hadn’t intended to race the clock, but now the heat was on. We grabbed a flag, a half-blue/half-pink piece of nylon attached to a ten foot PVC pole, and read the given team name. We were the “Sweat Hogs” and now had to conquer five acres of corn stalks, dirt, and frustrated families.