My terror-filled night as a chainsaw-wielding killer pig at Universal Studios

Wearing a pig mask and dressed in a flowing red satin cloak, I crouched behind a pine tree as I watched my prey approach.

I gripped the chainsaw tight in my hand and yanked on the ripcord, the deafening roar splitting the silence of the forest.

Like a sprinter, I sprung from the woods and raced toward the road, revving the motor.

The sightseers on the tour bus retreated in horrified unison. Women screeched, men cursed, girls cowered, boys shuddered.

I swung my weapon wildly, slicing and jabbing at the terrified tourists with maniacal menace.

The acrid smell of muffler fumes drenched the air as I trudged back to my hiding place to prepare for my next attack — my mission accomplished.

Only in the movies — or at Universal Studios Hollywood’s Halloween Horror Nights — could such a scene play out. For me, an admitted Halloween addict, it was the opportunity of a lifetime — to dress up like a chainsaw-wielding killer pig and scare unsuspecting riders on the studio back-lot Terror Tram, all in the name of journalism.

My night started with chainsaw training from the Sawfather himself, Blake Johnson, a wise-cracking veteran of Halloween Horror Nights and the dead-serious leader of the chainsaw pigs that roam the scare zones and studio back lot during the month-long fright fest.

Johnson welcomed me warmly to the “family of the saw” and introduced me to our weapon of choice: a flame-orange Echo CS-310 chainsaw with a 30-cc 2-stroke vortex engine.

For obvious safety and legal reasons, lest a family member slice a theme park visitor in half, the chain had been removed from the 14-inch blade — rendering the eunuched saw a harmless though virile noisemaker.

We trained in the fine art of the saw, from the quick start (to better surprise your victim) to the proper pose (to better strike fear and terror) to safety precautions (to better protect pig and pride).

“When you get this thing in your hand, your adrenaline starts pumping,” Johnson said, a chainsaw blaty-blaty-blatting in his own hands. “It’s like every kid’s fantasy. You’re living a horror movie.”

In the massive dressing area, a curtained-off section of a parking garage, I slipped on the hooded floor-length red cloak with black velvet trim. I studied the hideous pig mask: sinister snout, pointy ears poking through a mass of curly black hair, mouth sewn shut with black stitching.

“When you put on the mask,” Johnson said, “you become the pig.”

Out in the monster staging area, a corrugated-steel warehouse, my fellow scare actors stretched, prepped and cavorted as Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies” played in the background.

As dusk fell, Halloween Horror Nights creative director John Murdy gave a pre-game pep talk worthy of Knute Rockne — exhorting his assembled cast of zombies, clowns and freaks to exert the energy, effort and enthusiasm necessary to give the 18,000 paying costumers the scare of a lifetime.

Near the “Curse of the Mummy” revolving tunnel on the studio back lot, I sat on a fallen log in a wooded area with my pig partners in panic and pandemonium: Bobby Cullen and Preston Vawtor, whose combined ages equaled mine.

During my first solo attempt at attacking the passing Terror Tram, I failed badly. It took five tugs to start the chainsaw. Flustered, I rushed out to the tram and flailed aimlessly at the confused passengers. The long hair from the mask covered my face, obscuring my view. I stumbled on a fallen branch. Nobody was scared.

Winded and defeated, I plodded back into the woods and plopped down on the log.

“Any advice?” I asked Cullen.

“You’ve got to rev the engine more,” he said, in apt understatement.

I watched Cullen and Vawtor, studying their technique: the hidden sound of the rip-snorting engine chortling to life, the frightening sudden charge toward the tram, the lunging and lurching swings of the saw from a menacing crouched position. It was like a choreographed dance of death and destruction that lasted only 15 seconds.

As the night progressed, my scare skills improved.

“That was a good one,” Vawtor said, rewarding my successful effort with a high five. “You got ‘em.”

By the end of the night, I’d finally found my rhythm. And then it was time to go.

As I turned off the chainsaw and peeled off the pig mask, HHN master of mayhem Murdy paid me the highest compliment: “You did good.”

Halloween Horror Nights continues at Universal Studios Hollywood for four more nights: Sunday (Oct. 25) and Thursday through Saturday (Oct. 29 to 31).

Find the latest amusement and theme park news at the Los Angeles Times Funland blog: www.latimes.com/funland. Follow Funland on Twitter and Facebook.

— Brady MacDonald, Los Angeles Times staff writer

Photo: Brady MacDonald as a chainsaw-wielding pig at Universal Studios Hollywood’s Halloween Horror Nights. Credit: Trana Pittam / Universal Studios Hollywood

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This entry was posted on Sunday, October 25, 2009 at 8:31 am by Brady MacDonald and is filed under California, Family & Kids, Los Angeles, Theme Parks, Universal Studios Hollywood. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a comment, or trackback from your own site.