Happening Now
By the third house you will be holding onto somebody. It will not be a decision you make. It will simply have happened, and neither of you will mention it afterward.
The backlot goes dark and stops being a tourist attraction. The mazes are built by the same people who build the films, which is the difference you feel and cannot name: you walk a hallway dressed to the last switchplate, and somewhere in there you lose the seam between an attraction and the thing itself. The crowd is half of it. Strangers flinching in unison. That specific laugh that comes out of a person the instant after being scared. A group of grown adults who swore they were too old for this, clinging to each other.
Universal City, from early September into November, priced like it knows what it is worth.
Go with people you trust, or with people you want to know better. Fear is remarkably efficient at both.