It all started when my friend group hit me up in the group chat like:
"Weekend cabin trip! No phones, just vibes!"
First of all, "no phones" and "just vibes" is how you summon a Netflix documentary. You think I'm about to go to a remote location with no way to call for help? What kind of Final Destination prequel is this?
I said:
"Y'all ever heard of indoor plumbing? We have that here… at home."
But they wore me down. Promised snacks. Promised chill. Promised a hot tub (spoiler: it didn't work, and it smelled like sadness). So against my better judgment, I packed a bag with trail mix, a flashlight, a mini Bible, and some garlic cloves just in case we got real supernatural.
The drive up? Already sketch. Our GPS rerouted four times, the signal died, and we passed a gas station where a man with one eye told us, "Turn back while you still can." And what did we do?
KEPT DRIVING.
Because apparently no one in this car had ever seen a horror movie in their entire lives. I clutched my garlic like it was a weighted blanket.