So I went to the Seven Gates of Hell, kinda...

First of all, snaps to Randal for actually having people at his party. You know how you can invite twenty people, and maybe three end up coming, well, Randal, defying the previous standard upheld at his Haloween party, had a mighty turn out at his ice cream social. Short of the fact that chairs were limited, there was plenty of silly conversations and good company, a sometimes odd playlist, hulahooping, and oh yeah, there was punch. It was interesting to be in a room full of college kids enjoying themselves soberly. Sometime after learning that a medium pizza is medium sized and consuming weird mixtures of ice cream, people began trailing off, as is typical with all parties, and soon only seven party-goers remained. So, in some strange sort of inspiration, we looked in Weird Pennsylvania, and decided to go to the Seven Gates of Hell, the haunted wooded site that apparently once housed an abandoned asylum. The trip took us far out into the York area, deep in the woods sometime after midnight, and after some time we arrived at Trout Run Road and a gate that matched the one we had seen photographed. We walked into the woods, wearing glowstick bracelets and chattering, and after a long time climbing fallen trees and dodging rocks and mud in the darkness and my nay-saying, the group decided that crossing the stream we came to was not worthwhile, we didn't want to get caught on private property, and there was noting hell-like in York, short of maybe the city itself. The scariest thing we found was a deer carcass, and that only caused us to wish we had seen it earlier so that we might have been freaked out enough to have gotten an adrenaline rush out of our night hike. Afterward, we mainly argued if we were in the right place, or if we had passed more than one gate. Later, I did some research, and found that, yes, we were in the right place, but if we had continued in the direction we were going we would have crossed a creek and climbed a ridge only to find ourselves in a housing development. Also, I found out that if we had been caught we would have had a $400 each. However, I did find that the best way to end an ice cream social is to go to hell.