I love horror movies and I love a good scare. So, being too impatient to wait for the Thanksgiving release of Tim Burton's new horror film Sleepy Hollow, I figured I would visit the source of inspiration for Washington Irving's story and now, the new movie. I would take a tour the anachronistic haven for the ghouls and ghosts that Washington Irving captured in writing 150 years ago: the true Sleepy Hollow. I set out on a mission to hunt out all the ghosts I could find. I was determined to track down the spirits of Sleepy Hollow, find where they have been hiding for the past century and a half, and just get a good ol' scare in the process.

I don't intend to mislead you. This was not an out-of-the-way excursion for me. For most of my childhood, I lived a mere pumpkin toss away from the woods that the Headless Horseman and other ghosts are rumored to have haunted. I passed through Sleepy Hollow and its brother town, Tarrytown, all the time. Its 7-11 and Baskin Robbins were perfect spots for midnight snacks. I ran cross-country races in some of the town's back woods. I even took my SAT's at Sleepy Hollow High School. But, through all those years, I was entirely unaware that I was in the perfect setting for a ghost story and a horror film,

I would retreat to darkened movie theaters in the hope that The Blair Witch Project or Scream would offer the scare that I was looking for. But I was living in the eerie center of a real life ghost story the whole time, and never appreciated it. So when I took the opportunity to return home this past weekend, I was determined to maintain a vigilant awareness of all the ghosts and ghouls that would cross my path. If Washington Irving could see them, and Tim Burton could see them, I certainly wasn't going to let them evade me.

I had a clear idea of where to start in my search for the fear inspiring Sleepy Hollow that hides within the comfortable small town where I grew up. Where better than the home of Washington Irving? I was certain that if the spirit of the Headless Horseman still resided somewhere, it would be in the vast fields that surround Irving's house. So, I headed over to the estate, bought a ticket for the tour and braced myself for what was destined to put a Universal Studios horror tour to shame. Sure, I began to be skeptical when I saw that my tour mates were either hobbling retirees or elementary school children.

The tour guide was a very bright and well-informed man. Dressed in period clothing, he led us through the idyllic hills of the estate and told us all about Irving's interest in landscape and architecture. We toured through the small cottage that Irving had built and lived in until his death. We even got gossip about Irving's love life and family life. The tour was informative. It was even enjoyable. But, I had been looking for the sensationalism of a ghost hunt, and our charming tour guide clearly had more respectable motive. He had a genuine interest in the life and writings of Washington Irving, and this passion came through. But, as far as making my blood run cold, the brisk November air was doing a better job than spirits or specters.

So far, I had been entirely unsuccessful. I will admit that I was even beginning to have my doubts that I would see anything that qualified as otherworldly. But I figured if what I needed was instruction in how to scare myself out of my wits, whom better to turn to than a group of impressionable youths that still believe in the boogieman? But as it turns out, it takes a lot more than a tour through Tarrytown to scare third graders.

"People are a lot harder to scare today, cause we know that our eyes play tricks on us," one of the young boys informed me. These kids have been raised on R movies, much as I was. The Sixth Sense gave them a scare, but a guided tour around Washington Irving's estate just wasn't going to do it.

"I thought there was going to be ghost stuff popping out of the floor," another said of the tour, with a slight tinge of disappointment. I guess I had as well. But, it seems that for that kind of fun, I will have to shell out my eight bucks, buy some popcorn and settle into those movie theater seats to see what kind horror film Tim Burton has made for us.