On a dark and foggy night, my wife and I approached a mansion. A sign reading “BEWARE” hung on the gate; I checked a slip of paper to confirm we were in the right place. I was in full-tilt geek mode: glasses, curly hair, sweater vest, bow tie. My wife was wearing an orange tie-dyed sundress. It was as awful as it sounds. We bumbled our way inside the mansion, bumping into doors and tripping over our own feet while gawking at our opulent surroundings. The lavish dining room was populated with the usual assortment of grim-visaged servants, crusty old gentlemen, dowagers in funny hats, and glamorous blonds. First and foremost amongst the glamorous blond was our host, the extra-pretty, extra-petite lord of the manor. While the guests regarded us with disdain, my wife and I fumbled around the dining room and act like rubes. A dowager handed me a glass of wine. When my wife dropped her handkerchief, I bent down to pick it up… just as an archer popped in through a window and ridd...