Normal Folks Who Turn Into Bloodsucking Beasts

It hurts to look at Paul Lynch’s face: lizard skin, crevices deep enough to get lost in and framed by long hair flailing in all directions. He shakes your hand ... then shows you the packet of fake eyeballs you’ve just squeezed.

By day, Lynch is a veterinarian, ministering to dogs, cats and even lizards. But for 19 nights in October, he is transformed into the otherworldly “Undertaker,” scaring all who walk by during Knott’s Berry Farm’s annual Halloween Haunt.

He isn’t alone. Lynch is among the 1,000 temporary workers the park hires at near-minimum wage to make up its scare squad during the Halloween season, when Knott’s is turned into a haunted berry farm.

Along with the college students and part-time workers looking for seasonal cash, a surprising number head to Knott’s after a full day’s work to dress as witches, warlocks, ghosts and goblins--and to entertain visitors who want to be scared half to death.

Most don’t finish until 1 or 2 a.m., and often have to report to their real jobs in the morning.

Some, like Lynch, are so dedicated that they take off the month of October to devote their energy to the Halloween Haunt--and get some sleep.

“It’s my vacation every year,” firefighter Trisha Christian, 30, said through her latex werewolf mask.

She started working at the Haunt 11 years ago while stationed at Edwards Air Force Base in the Antelope Valley.

She’s so dedicated to scaring people that she drives the 35 miles each way to the Buena Park amusement park from her home in the San Fernando Valley.

Members of the scare squad arrive at Knott’s in the late afternoon and spend 30 to 45 minutes with a makeup artist to be transformed into Dracula or a close personal friend of his.

More than 2,500 people auditioned for spots at this year’s haunt; fewer than half were hired. Many, in the manner of Christian, return year after year.

Lynch has worked there 14 Halloweens--”minus three years for vet school”--during which time he’s gotten married and had two kids.

“It’s like camp,” said Mike Williams, a machine operator in real life who limps throughthe park dressed as an old miner. “You go and see everyone once a year.”

Hope Gonzales is an emergency room technician; her skills might come in handy if she scares someone nearly to death.

“What I do now is way different from the hospital,” she said. “I like dressing up. I like scaring people. I like to see their reactions.”

Larry Freilick, a hypnotherapist and former New York cop, is spending his ninth year as Dracula--complete with blood dripping from his mouth. “I grew up liking scaring people,” he said, apparently never considering whether he should use his hypnotic skills to overcome that predilection.

Leah Perez, 22, is a teacher at Fullerton Christian Preschool in Rowland Heights, where, she said, the kids don’t even mention Halloween. Asked about the disconnect between her two jobs, she replied, “That’s something in me they can’t change.”

Lynch acknowledges that his choice of moonlighting gigs is a little odd.

“I could make more money working one day as a vet than the whole time on haunt,” he said.

But much like Dracula and his need for fresh blood, he’s hooked. “I couldn’t imagine doing something else for October,” Lynch said. “There’s nothing more fun than scaring someone and seeing them fall to the ground or flee.”