Dear Diary, 

When Qu recommended I check out the Ninja Trick House I thought he was playing a bad trick on me. You want me to go to this cringy escape room, I thought, but kept my mind open to the possibilities of getting lunch after. So, after debating if it was worth a shot, I bought a ticket online and hopped on the train. 

Ninja Trick House isn't an escape room, but a one stop shop ninja bootcamp. My fears of being the lone adult in a room full of weaponized children began to surface as I walked down the long hallway and took a seat on a bench in front of a giant screen. This was supposed to be my ninja orientation. As I sat on a bench, waiting for the fun to start, two small kids plopped down next to me and my fears came true. The three of us impatiently ignored the safety and training video until our new ninja code was explained to us: 1 Assassination, 2 Sabotage, 3 Surveillance, and 4 Espionage. It seemed like a strange order of events, but hey, I’m not the ninja expert. 

Before the video ended, a man with a sword jumped out from behind a curtain. He swiftly tied swords around our waists and took us to our first stop: weapons training. He showed us how to use our swords, which were lighter, shorter, and more agile than the type of sword a samurai would use. He did not hesitate to attack me first and with no warning, which totally gave the kids an unfair advantage, but anyway, after learning very little sword technique, we searched the room for hidden weapons. Yes, my second fear came true too, I really was in an escape room. We found knives under floorboards, behind paintings, in treasure chests. We searched for shuriken, or throwing stars, under the rug, in the bathroom, wedged between two books. It started to feel more dangerous that there were so many hidden knives in extremely used places. But finally, we took the shuriken we collected and got busy whipping them at the walls. In the end that was what me and those small children were here for anyway. 

All in all it was a weird experience, but not one I’ll forget. 

Xoxo, 

Maria