While the mare motel was memorable in every way, Bracken Cave was simply unforgettable. Remember, TV can only convey sight and sound. It's hard to assess things like touch and smell in a two-dimensional medium.
How, for instance, can one describe the "feel" of a bat as it settles on the nape of your neck, its velvety wings brushing your ear and the side of your face? Or the sensation of flesh-eating beetles falling over the tops of your boots and burrowing into your socks and chewing into your skin? How, on television, can I show you the indescribable smell of toxic ammonia, as it billows from tons of sticky bat poo that clings to your feet as you stumble forward in suffocating blackness? Or the creepy stench of the ill-fitting rubber gas mask that you pray will not slip from your sweaty face?
Don't get me wrong. Holding on to an artificial vagina as a 1,400-pound horse lifts you skyward is not a vacation. But Bracken Cave wins, running away.
